Beauty and the Beast Blunt Thou the Lion's Paw:Bk9
by Vetivera
Summary: Cathy's past is revealed in a strange twist of circumstances after the wedding.  Catherine begins to widen her interests outside the home at the request of an old friend. Information from the past fills in the empty spaces from her missing years.
1. Chapter 1

**Blunt Thou the Lion's Paw**

_Devouring Time, blunt thou the lion's paws, __  
__And make the earth devour her own sweet brood; __  
__Pluck the keen teeth from the fierce tiger's jaws, __  
__And burn the long-liv'd phoenix, in her blood; __  
__Make glad and sorry seasons as thou fleet'st, __  
__And do whate'er thou wilt, swift-footed Time, __  
__To the wide world and all her fading sweets; __  
__But I forbid thee one most heinous crime: __  
__O! carve not with thy hours my love's fair brow, __  
__Nor draw no lines there with thine antique pen; __  
__Him in thy course untainted do allow __  
__For beauty's pattern to succeeding men. __  
__Yet, do thy worst old Time: despite thy wrong, __  
__My love shall in my verse ever live young._

_Shakespeare's sonnet_

**_Belgium, 1960's_**

"_I don't see why you need to go so far Philippe. France is close. You will have no issues with the language. The Sorbonne is an excellent school. Their music programs are among the best and most comprehensive in the world. Ask your mother!'_

'_I am aware of all that, Papa. I have spoken with Maman. She agrees that I would benefit by going there to complete my musical education but no matter how hard I try, I feel it is necessary to travel to the birthplace of the music which draws my soul.'_

'_What nonsense! You know nothing of this place. It is uncivilized. No matter what music you play you must still begin with the classics.'_

_Philippe turned away. His father was getting angry. It was always the way. Father and son were two strong personalities clashing over parental rights versus a child's rights. As the oldest child in a family of four, he knew that expectations for his life and career were already imprinted deep in his psyche from the traditions of long dead ancestors. He also knew that he could not meet those expectations. _

_Camille, his mother, a brilliant concert pianist had bequeathed an abundance of talent and skill to her eldest son. He among all of his siblings showed the greatest promise. The demands of his heritage would supersede those of his heart's desire if Philippe Sr. had his way. The history of the Belgian family was rooted in the history of the country. It was expected that each generation would produce a male heir who would carry on the family business. To Philippe, the very idea of living his life in the staid environment of his ancestral home was stifling. He was his mother's child._

_Philippe Jardiniere's beautiful and engaging mother had traveled extensively performing for the audiences of Europe using her unique talent. In a weak moment, she met a young Belgian nobleman following a concert in the capital city of Brussels. Impulsively, he followed her home to Ireland and begged and pleaded until she became his wife. Philippe Sr. understood that marriage and children could not interfere with her art. During the early years of her marriage, Camille had been away often, giving birth between her many engagements. Two strong sons were born on either side of twin girls. There were no more kids after that. Camille fulfilled her husband`s need to have an heir. The children were frequently cared for by nannies, but they all adored their mother and the excitement she brought to their lives with her talent and stories of her travels. _

_During one of her concerts in Paris, Camille was introduced to a sultry-voiced, sensuous American coloured woman who sang jazz and blues like nothing the strictly classical pianist had ever heard. Camille brought home the memories and the music. Only Philippe whose musical genius was barely superseded by his mother, showed any interest in the wildly different sound. He was unable to let go of the brilliance of the compositions. Without a doubt, he knew that his world would only be complete when he could live within the heart of the sounds of Jazz and blues generated in the heart of Dixieland located in southern United States. Lena Horne was forever etched in his mind as the perfection of style and performance. He moved heaven and earth to find out more about her. His journey led him to find many more performers. Philippe was hooked._

_To overcome his father's resistance, the young musician worked out a plan of action. The autocratic Philippe Sr, who acceded reluctantly to the wishes and talent of his wife, refused to bend even a little for his equally gifted son. Junior decided that he would compromise. The jazz scene in Montreal Canada was not really a worthy music successor to the southern US but it did have a prestigious university, the language was French and access to the unique music of Lena Horne and others was just a border away. _

_Convinced that traveling away from his home as well as his language would be too much of a temptation to young Philippe, the father calculated that four years of speaking his language like bourgeoisie in the upstart French-Canadian province would soon send the young man home. Philippe knew it wasn't true. None of his father`s prejudices and elitism rubbed off on him. He loved the world and the things which made people different and yet the same. For the sake of peace, he agreed with his father, agreed to travel to Canada and promised to complete his degree there. Although it was vaguely understood that Philippe junior would return home at the end of the four years, it was never overtly stated as part of the promise. _

_With a clear conscience, Philippe set out from home at age seventeen, sailed in style aboard a ship bound for Halifax, then travel by train to Montreal and Mc Gill University where he would begin his music performance and appreciation studies._

At home in LA, Philippe Jardinière rolled over onto his back. He wondered why the beginning of his journey to the west should have come to him in such detail. He wondered if death was knocking on his doorstep. Beneath his urbane exterior he harboured many superstitions. A review of life surely presaged death. He had no wish to wake Vlad for reassurances. Since their return from New York, each had been lost in reflective thoughts. Little Laddie had gone back to his parents. His delightful energy was missed. The wedding had been a triumph for everyone. Perhaps it was just the letdown after an exciting time of planning and executing the celebration to perfection. Philippe knew he was proud of his stepson and daughter in law but a face haunted him constantly since his return. Cathy, with her vulnerable eyes and tough exterior had captured his heart. His feelings weren't sexual in nature but he longed to hold her in his arms and offer comfort, from what he didn`t know.

It was clear that Cathy had a loving family who adored her and a husband whose shining eyes lit up even more when they were watching her move around a room. And yet, beneath the surface of her open and honest energy lay a sadness he could not define. It tore at him. That her biological father had been a scoundrel was clear. He wondered about her mother. When she sang at the wedding he felt a kinship with her that he had not felt with anyone since...

Philippe closed his mind to the past. There were painful memories. The man at his side was worth everything he had given up. Philippe knew from very early on that he could not meet the expectations of his family, especially those of his father. Being disowned hurt so badly. The pain lay like a knot in his abdomen but he had to be true to only two things; his music and his nature. Vladimir, Jason, Terry and Laddie filled all other spaces except one. Feeling the beginnings of a depression which he knew would last for days, if not weeks, Philippe got up and padded barefoot to the living room. He sat carefully at the grand piano which dominated the living room. Earphones prevented any sound from waking his life partner and best friend. There in the early hours of the morning his fingers found the notes to Stormy Weather, a metaphor for his life.

* * *

"Jacob, what's up with your parents? They have been acting strange since the wedding.'

'I think KitCat that they have found their bliss.'

'Oh c'mon. They found their bliss in California.'

'Spiritually, maybe.'

'Are you serious?'

Jacob laughed with that full throated sound she loved. 'Just like we found ours,' he said grabbing her to tickle and tease.

'Jacob, be serious, please.'

'I am. Something happened to them. It's good to know that they are happy.'

'Just like you and me.' Cathy's face changed as if admitting happiness could be jinxed by acknowledging its sweetness.

'Don't! please KitCat?' he pleaded, hating to see the negative mobility of her features. Be happy with me tonight. There will always be something missing. We'll find it, but not this minute.'

`Ì know Jacob. I have every reason to be happy and I am.` As if needing a reminder, she stared at her lovely leaf ring, smiling at its beauty and the love behind it.

Jacob knew his wife was thinking about her past. He didn't want to end her process of learning by simply telling her the truth. He had to allow the discovery to happen as fate willed it. He hoped she could set her dreams and her fears aside. Big changes were coming into their lives. He wanted to see her happy and strong. He drew her close, kissing her full lips with a tenderness he was far from feeling. He waited, hoping her passion would match the simmer of desire percolating beneath his skin.

* * *

'Why are you afraid, Catherine?'

'Will I never be able to have a thought of my own?'

'Not while you are married to me!'

Catherine sighed and rolled over. Her relationship with Vincent had taken on a new dimension. It's intensity was delightful. She was grateful for his tender strength and understanding in the years since their renewal. They had really only skimmed the surface of what was possible between them until Terry's wedding day. Neither really had any sense of how much richer their lives would become. Catherine had no wish to turn away from the beauty of the soul to soul connection which was solidified with their love.

The lawyer she used to be, had, in a new found courage, decided to move back into the culture and excitement of New York. It wasn't an attempt to fit into the lifestyle she enjoyed before the reunion with Vincent. It was to renew her commitment to cleaning up the lives of the vulnerable and disadvantaged people living in the city she loved.

After the wedding, as promised, she had called the Governor's office. He had been only to eager to meet with her. The appointment was set for the following day when Howie would be in the city on business. As the hours drew near, the middle-aged woman, found her courage deserting her in waves.

She hated to admit to herself that stepping back into the public eye would render her anonymity a thing of the past. Catherine knew that danger was never far away but with her full healing, she also knew that sitting at home day in and day out would not be an option.

The girls were getting more and more involved in their lives with Erin and Holly. The transition was going smoothly. Neither Vincent nor Catherine could deny blood relatives the rightful opportunity to raise those girls. Only their biological father could prevent shared custody but Marcus was agreeable to anything which would help him get out of jail earlier.

With all those things coursing through the channels of her mind, it was no wonder that Vincent could pick up on her disquiet.

'I am not trying to control your life you know.'

'I know Vincent. I think I didn't want you to remind me that I am afraid.'

'Give your feelings a name. Then you can conquer them.'

Catherine felt under the sheet for her husband's warm hand. Its well defined character reassured her. She knew that it could fight for and protect her from almost anything but that wasn't the life she wanted. More than anything she hoped to live well, happily, enjoying the company of her family but the social conscience which was an innate part of her begged to be released. Catherine wondered about her ability to fight for the rights of those less fortunate. Being an anonymous agent was one thing. All the details involved in saving the girls was easy. People from social services came to her but going out to participate in meetings required something else.

'Catherine, at some time or another you will have to be ready but you won't know that until you take the first step.'

'I know, I know.'

Vincent sighed. He knew that his wife was ready. He understood that she would find her strength in the middle of the very activities which she now feared. He didn't know how to help her overcome the dread which held her hostage. Any offer to follow her or travel with her would be rebuffed. Rob, of course would take her anywhere she needed to go but he did not want their life to be as it was before her kidnapping.

'Are you nervous about me taking this step?'

Vincent didn't want to lie. 'I am. Probably as much as you but I expected that sooner or later you would need to take this step. I trusted you to know when it would not be right and when it would be time.'

'Thank you Vincent. It is right. I think I will make a few wardrobe changes before I step out.' Catherine turned to face her husband, touching his face. It was a quiet invitation to which her husband responded.

* * *

`Catherine, please come in. I thought you looked amazing at the wedding but each time I see you, your radiance comes through even more.`

`Thank you Howie. You are quite gracious.`

The old friends hugged before the governor guided Catherine to a chair. He ensured that she was seated comfortably before sitting in another chair facing her. He abandoned the idea of talking over the desk. Catherine was his friend before she was a constituent and he needed her services. He tried to make it personal rather than business like.

The old friends chatted for awhile. Catherine gave a brief account of her recovery. Howie`s eyes widened in surprise and concern, before praising Joe, Jacob and Vincent.

`And the young lady who was getting married?`

`She supervised my recovery before moving heaven and earth to find out where I belonged.`

`Very interesting dynamics. Do you now feel safe?`

`Not always Howie. There are still elements out there who seemed determined to punish me and my family.`

The Governor`s head tilt invited more confidence and Catherine, feeling safe with the old friend explained a little more about her incredible husband and their love story. She did not open up completely. At the back of Catherine`s mind was John Moreno, her former boss who was the architect of the kidnapping which cost her more than twenty years of her life. Only Vincent had her complete trust. Howie`s youthful intensity had dimmed a little and he listened carefully to the shared information, nodding often but saying nothing until he was ready to make his own case.

Ì read your back files Catherine. Some of your early cases had to do with children. I was impressed by the level of advocacy you displayed. I am aware of the powerful connections you have, including me and I want you to use them because in every way we have to rehabilitate this lost generation of children. Our social services, as they are currently run, are not meeting the needs of the community of children who are poor, in care and displaced. There is an oversight committee which is headed by a former judge and a well known child welfare advocate. Confidentially, they do not get along but they have skills and access to smaller community organizations.`

`Do you think they are dishonest in any way? I don`t want to be a buffer between two angry people looking out only for themselves.`

'I would never ask that of you Catherine. My wish is to make this committee work. The stakes for our future generations are high. Too many kids in this state suffer and drop out of sight, resurfacing in morgues and jails. I want better for them.`

'Am I to work or to be a watchdog?'

`Come to the meetings first and then decide what you will need to be. I need someone I can trust. There is a lot of support staff available. I can`t pay you but whatever help you need, just ask.`

Catherine nodded. She knew how important it was for those with financial security to volunteer on behalf of the disadvantaged. Money was not her issue. Being able to make a contribution was. She thought of all the children below who were lost in the system. She knew the children would have little chance at a decent life. Saving only two was admirable but hardly a drop in the well. Here was an opportunity to do more.

Although the offer was made with an opportunity to think it over, Catherine knew she didn`t have to. Her heart was in the opportunity. Howie did his homework and she told him so. The chuckle was quickly followed by a worried air.

`Don`t worry Howie. I`ll find my way, You have some paper work for me?`

Howie nodded clearly relieved that he had chosen well. As Catherine stood, Howie wondered what would have happened if he told Catherine how he longed to ask her out when they were young. She wouldn`t have given him a second thought and he had been scared of her doting father but she was as beautiful in her middle age as she had been as a teenager.

The old friends shared a hug. 'I'll see that the paper work is sent to your home. Come to me if you have any concerns.`

Catheirne didn't linger. She hurried down to the elevator where Rob was waiting. She wasn't scared but she knew the road ahead wouldn't be easy.


	2. Chapter 2

Philippe and two of his employees sat behind the glass at his recording studio listening to the unappealing wail of a young singer. She had a great voice and incredible song writing skills but she insisted on Rap as her choice of performance art when her voice was more suited to a soft jazz. Frustrated by her lack of self awareness, Philippe got up and exited the room even as his protégé continued to miss the beat on her own composition.

With a little patience he could have taken the time to coach and be persuasive but his foul mood, whose status was growing from days into weeks, would not abate. He went first to his office where a bit of cool air and sunshine only emphasized the irritation. Musical success stories dotted the walls. Everywhere he looked, gold, platinum and silver records, honours, and plaques lined the walls. These were a testament to his effectiveness as a sound engineer and producer. His work encompassed all types of music. Philippe picked up the phone on his desk.

'Carry on for me Den. I can't do anymore today. If you can get her to tone down a bit she might make it.' There was a pause then 'no I am fine, just more tired than usual and short on patience.'

Philippe was grateful for his second in command. Den had come to LA from a studio in England. The young Brit wanted to work in the American music scene but found it hard to break in. Philippe understood the business could be difficult enough for locals to get into much less outsiders. He gave Den a chance and had never been sorry since. Den did not desert him and the two worked hand in hand to increase the effectiveness of the studio. Unlike Philippe, Den was a true engineer. His technical skills enhanced what his boss knew about music.

Wondering what to do next, the troubled man picked up the phone again. He put it down just as quickly. Collecting his lightweight jacket, he left the office with a terse word for his secretary. The late model sports car took him downtown to the offices of his recently and happily married stepson. If Jason was surprised to see his step father he didn't let on. Visits from Philippe were rare but Jason knew the man and recognized those rare moments of depression which would plague him from time to time.

The wedding would have been a catalyst for Philippe's depression. He had given up so much to pursue his dream. Family events always hurt. From the day Philippe told his father he was staying in America and he was gay, his father disowned him and any further connections were severed. On the other side, all family members were forbidden to have any contact including his beloved mother. How that played out in Belgium, he didn't know. There would be no prodigal story. As stubborn as his father could be, Philippe was more so despite the pain in his heart. He stayed away physically but not emotionally and frequent bouts of depression took their toll on his health.

'What's up Phil? You look tired.' Jason said rising from his desk to hug his stepfather.

After they were seated, the older man did not prevaricate. 'Jason, I am feeling as low as I have for awhile. It is not about my family back home but something is bothering me about that young lady I met at the wedding.'

'Cathy? Jacob's wife?'

'Yes. There is something which pulls me to her. It is impossible to understand. We have no connection but she reminds me so much of my mother. I have acknowledged that this interest is nothing more than a superficial resemblance. It feels like more and yet, in all my life, I have been with only one woman and that was so long ago and many more years than her age. Anyway, she knows her true parents. What is it that draws me?'

'There are lots of ways to be connected to another person. Perhaps her family is related to your mother. I think she has some Irish in her but I can't be sure. Her family dynamics are quite complicated.'

'Jason, I think I am going to walk back in my footsteps. I don't know what I will find but there is a journey I must take. That's all I know for sure.'

'What do you need from me Phil? I know Dad will support anything you need to do.'

'I need to do it alone. I don't want him to be hurt. He's made me happier than I thought possible. A quest for the unknown can be threatening.'

Jason never doubted that his father and step father were happy. They beat the odds and fought to maintain a relationship outside the norms. Even in LA where freedom was the word, homosexuals spent their lives hidden in closets, especially in the case of Vladimir. Sometimes his colleagues were not kind. Philippe's personal history always stood like a rock between the men. Philippe had made the decisions to be his own man long before he committed to the relationship but Vladimir held himself responsible for the break with the Belgian family.

Jason thought a lot about his own family dynamics and how important it had been not to lose touch with his father during his parent's separation. The concern was validated by Vladimir's own fight for his son. Connections were critical. He gave voice to his thoughts.

'Phil, when my parents broke up, I thought my world ended. Mom was pretty hurt and so was Dad. I never doubted their love for me, even when I was struggling to find my way. At the end of my journey, you and Dad were both waiting for me. Dad will be fine with your need to understand and define your connections to those you love. At the end of your quest, we will both be waiting for you.'

The hug shared by the men was heartfelt.

'Are you going home to Belgium?'

'No. Montreal. Something there was left in limbo. Perhaps my meeting with Cathy was designed to remind me of some unfinished business although I cannot explain what that's all about. If my footsteps take me further then I need to go there too.'

* * *

* * *

Jacob stood in the doorway of the living room staring at the spectre of his mother struggling with a mass of papers littered on the desk in front of her. What drew him to the archway was not any deep sensitivity to the obvious distress of his mother but the words spewing from her mouth. Jacob could not remember a time in their short reunion where a word of dubious character passed her lips.

'Mama' he called out softly. Jacob did not want to startle her.

None the less, she moved sharply in the chair but did not turn. 'What is it Jacob?'

Undisturbed by the tone, he moved forward into the corner of the large living room where a desk had been set up. It was unlike the area in the basement where his father sat to attend to his writing and correspondence in peace and quiet. Once Catherine decided on a return to the corporate world, albeit as a crusading '_do gooder'_, she set herself up with a small office space in which she could work undisturbed but be close enough if the girls were home and needing attention. From what Jacob could see and sense, only frustration emanated from the corner.

There was no window in the far end of the living room but Catherine and Sue had spent a little time finding the right pictures for the wall, a small phone, a lap top computer and a vase with flowers. Clearly the ambience of the space did not add anything to Catherine's mounting frustration. Moving forward, Jacob approached this new person cautiously.

'I can see you're upset. Can I help you with anything?'

'What do you think you can do for me?'

'Dunno Mama. Whadya need?' he asked with a silly accent and trying to infuse a little lightness in his tone.

'Stop talking like some street kid. Your father and I don't talk like that.'

Jacob knew in that moment that his mother was definitely not herself. She turned from the desk in response to his silence.

'Jacob, I am sorry. I just don't know what's come over me.'

'Tell me what's going on. Do you feel like you took on too much?'

'No, no. It's not like that. The papers here just don't make sense. All the words are jumbled together. I have no idea what I'm looking at.'

Taking her hand to keep it light, Jacob offered this response. 'Mama, maybe you need glasses.'

'At my age!'

'Just how old are you?'

The look he received was curious. Jacob knew the answer without hearing it but he stayed quiet.

'I'm thirty...Catherine faltered, halted by the frown which appeared between her son's brows. ' No, of course I'm not. How silly of me!'

Through her hands, Jacob could sense the disconnect between her current life and the years she was in a coma. He could see how his mother's mental state moved between the past and the present, skipping the gap without any frame of reference. It was an unconscious act of her nervous system and one which would betray her from time to time. Stress, it seemed, played a large part in the interrupted process. Catherine appeared to have no knowledge or skill in consistently bridging the missing years.

Since her return, Jacob had resisted the desire to heal his mother's system. He did not want to connect her body's memory with her conscious mind unless it would benefit her. All those lonely years were better left to some deep. dark past but watching her now and seeing the struggle, he wondered again if it would help to restore the threads of her missing time.

'Mama do you remember anything from your years in a coma?'

'Only sounds... not even faces or places to fit the sounds.'

'Does it bother you not to know?'

'Sometimes. I don't know if I want to remember Jacob. Sometimes the void scares me.' She paused thinking before shaking her head negatively. Jacob knew she wasn't ready for a connection but she went on acquiescing to her current need. 'Certainly, I will need to get my eyes checked. I have done so little reading for the past couple of years. This job is going to really push me to find my limits.'

Jacob smiled and leaned in to kiss his mother. 'If I can be of any help, let me know.'

The soft hand on his face spoke volumes. Relieving his mother's frustration was important. He was reminded of the untapped power within himself. Now that he had recovered his equilibrium and his strength, Jacob was able to return to his former speed and intensity at work. He left the office early, not to spend the afternoon with Cathy but to renew his interest in the healing power and skill which had been on hold since the kidnapping. He bounded up the stairs to change into something light and comfortable. His intention to do some reading in the privacy of his tunnel room pulled him like a magnet.

* * *

Cathy held her breath. Holly's news was better than anything she could have imagined. The two women sat together at their favourite restaurant with Cilla between them as they discussed the possibilities available. Holly had been so impressed with Terry's wedding dress that she pushed to clean up the facility in which her father did much of his criminal activity. The ground floor area was huge. The secure second floor was full of offices which could easily be converted to small room. While Holly was dreaming of the way in which it could be transformed, Cathy's excitement fired her to move along quickly.

'This will create a big change in your sanctuary below. Do you mind Cathy?'

'Yes and no. I have to consider what it will mean to Jacob and Vincent too but I think if I still have input into the lives of the women and support their healing, I can be happy to see them move into a newer facility. You won't do too much will you Holly? I know you can afford to make it perfect right away but letting the women do some of it gives them ownership of the outcome.'

'I hadn't thought of that. I suppose that's why you do the work you do. You understand how they think.'

'Not always, but in this transformation I think the more they can do for themselves the better.'

Cathy was very excited. She had known about Jacob's trip to the warehouse the night Kardin tried to trap Vincent. Typical of most men, he didn't go into details but spoke only of the moments in which he exchanged energy with Kardin. The two women had gone to look at the empty space. Holly was proud of the clean up but Cathy could see beyond the space to an active and working factory, powered by women with rooms for personal use on the second floor, allowing more seclusion and individual space for women to be themselves. The area was already alarmed for privacy and safety. It had the look of an army barracks but the industry on the lower level would help to make the women feel useful.

Cathy knew that Erin could not manage the space and the women's program alone especially if she pursued her dream to create beautiful dresses for anyone who would wear them. There was a lot of work to be done just on the issue of entrepreneurship and clientele for a working group of unknown women. There would also need to be ongoing therapy and care if women were in the space long term.

Cathy's mind began to feel like an exploding firecracker. She left her racing thoughts and turned to Cilla.

'How's the new school Cilla?'

'Like it...' A little shoulder shrug accompanied the simple response.

'Tell me what you like.'

'Lunch, toys, and the copy corner.'

'Copy corner?'

Cilla did not respond. Cathy looked at Holly with a question in her eyes.

'Don't know what that means. It must be a space where they do something like writing. She has a pretty good hand. She writes well beyond her age. I think its automatic but I am not sure yet.'

'Ok, I don't even know what that means but I'll take your word for it.' Cathy smiled at Cilla. She missed her presence at the house but Holly and Brian wanted to try having her for an extended period. Mea was still at the Brownstone, just visiting in the week. Cathy could see no distress in Cilla's face and knew that her uncle and aunt were providing a loving home. Holly had four months before her own baby came into the world. Both Cilla's presence and the impending birth brought Erin more and more into their lives. The transition of the sanctuary to the warehouse would help to make the family closer.

'Don't worry Catty. Your daddy's coming so you won't be sad.'

Cathy opened her mouth to deny that she wasn't feeling any sadness but she knew it wasn't true. She was feeling depressed about the changes and wondered if she would flounder once the warehouse move was complete. 'My Dad's been dead for a long time Cilla. He's not coming back.'

'Yes he is.'

Cathy was done. She enjoyed the day with Holly but an overwhelming feeling was descending on her. The thought of her father's spirit coming anywhere near, whether real or imagined brought on a feeling of nausea. She didn't want to step back after she and Jacob had worked so hard to put the stress of the kidnapping behind them. The shiny ring on her finger brightened her enough to say goodbye without the tears which threatened to overflow. Remembering Cilla's vision of Edgar Raeburn, Cathy glanced over into the corner of the restaurant, wondering if she would see Frederick's sombre ghost staring at her apologetically. Only a tall pseudo palm stood in the space. Laughing inwardly at her foolishness she headed home.

* * *

Although Jacob had every intention of spending some quiet time in his chambers below, he spent a great deal of time walking the length of the park to a far entrance at the other end of the tunnel. Walking allowed his body to generate an unusual energy. It was, as if he was able to draw from a source above and below. The further he walked the more he felt a strength in his legs rising into his body. With a simple boost, he could jump to almost any height. That would have to be a night effort. Jacob wondered what people would think if he were seen jumping into a tree at will. The thought brought a stifled laugh to his lips.

The far entrance to the tunnels brought him in on the other side of the river. The trip back up to his area was taxing physically, but he was sure footed. Each challenge was met with increased agility. Jacob couldn't imagine how he let his physical prowess get lost in fear and self pity. He knew what the kidnapping had done but long before that, the case with Patrick DelCassian required that he exercise his practical and learned skills as a defender. He had to sublimate his intuition and energy to find answers which would hold up in a court of law. Accepting the necessity of such action, he forgave himself the lapse in his self driven study and vowed to move forward.

His route took him past the nursery. He stopped in to see Celeste. It seemed like weeks since he had a conversation with his childhood friend. She welcomed him without any surprise. It was as if they had seen each other the day before. Celeste had always been like that. She did not live in the past. She took him around to the babies, knowing that they had so little. Jacob picked up a few here and there. His eyes surveyed their tiny, drug ravaged bodies.

'Why are there so many here Celeste?'

'Life above is getting more dangerous. People have no jobs, no happiness except in drink and drugs, Jacob Wells. They have no time to care for babies.' The question of _why they were born_ begged to be asked but Jacob had no knowledge of that aspect of life outside his own world. He hadn't known a lot about women and babies until his discussions with Cathy and their desire to hold off having children. It was a very practical decision. Mea and Cilla occupied much of their time at home. He wanted to ensure his mother's full recovery and find strength in their relationship which would withstand the addition of a child. Cathy's troubled past, his own history and unusual childhood made them wary about taking on the challenges of parenthood but each time he looked into a little face it tore at his heart. If he still lived below, many of those babies and children would be considered his 'brothers and sisters'. His eye was caught by an olive skinned baby with big eyes who should little interest in anything.

'That is Miss Terry Theresa's baby Jacob Wells. She did good with the milk of hers. Now Bodun is quiet again. She needs more.'

Jacob picked up the small infant. She could have been any age. Their normal development was frequently delayed. He held her at the base and top of her spine, two areas which he always found a current of life different from the pathways which ran internally. He felt a strange sensation. Something told him to place his fingers together rather than apart. Awkwardly he twisted his arms and allowed the tips of his fingers to meet at her mid back. He felt the child shudder and take a deep breath. Immediately colour improved in her face. He turned over the little body and held her chest and back. There were more deep breaths before the child cried.

'She never done that before. The bridge was flattened Jacob Wells.'

Jacob understood what Celeste meant but if he was asked to explain it, he couldn't. Bodun looked up into his face. She didn't smile but he knew that she was eased and he felt happy. He left the nursery and headed towards his quarters ever thoughtful about the gifts he had been given.

Jacob sat on his bed and removed a box from behind a corner of the wall. Inside were the treasures left to him as books from John Pater. Among his papers was a diary, a book of information about Vincent's birth, and the formula for longevity which he had used to buy time for Edgar Raeburn. Jacob sat at his old school desk and went through the pages one by one, looking for some clue as to what he would need to access his gift.

He stared hard at each page reminding himself of what he had already taken in and anything he could have missed. Each page had lots of writing but as the leaves turned over he realized that one had been stuck together. Very little effort was needed to separate them but Jacob handled it with care. At the centre of the opened sheaths was a diagram covered with symbols he had seen before but not together. He stared long and hard at the symbol until everything ran together. Names gradually floated around in the air. Hermes, tretragrammaton, smaragdina ...! Right away Jacob could place the information. He did not let go of his trance state. Instead he held the focus.

'Jacob, my son, my life. Know ye well that ye are of my lifeforce. I am the Sun, thy father and the moon is thy mother. We come to you as Timothy and Layla. We begin as ye are ready.'

The disembodied voice was silent. Jacob felt his breath drawing in deeply, almost against his will as if he had to struggle for air, much as Bodun had just struggled. He tilted his head back even as an explosion of light painlessly entered his body. Jacob did not feel fear, only the profound sense that his real life was about to begin.


	3. Chapter 3

Catherine entered the glass encased building. Rob, ever courteous to the women in his care, was at her side holding doors and ensuring that his charge was able to continue. She would be on her own once the elevator doors opened on the seventh floor. The elevator held a certain terror for Catherine. Once inside memories of her encounter with the former DA would come back to haunt her. It was her trust in Moreno and his deep betrayal which stayed with her over the years. The cost to her, Vincent and Jacob was immeasurable. It wouldn't be the first time she had been in an elevator since her return but it was the first time she was on an investigative mission.

Catherine had been out many times. When Mea was at the hospital during her life saving surgery, the anxious adoptive mother had been at the hospital with her as often as possible and going to Doctor's visits before and after the surgery. When she was in and out of a hospital, there was a strange sense of safety in that structure. Where she did not feel safe was in the tall buildings in Manhattan which housed other unknown activities.

Rob had heard all the details of the original story. He said little in response to the ugly kidnapping of the young assistant DA but his silent nod and tightened lips, spoke volumes. The presence of the former military man was both reassuring to Catherine and intimidating to anyone with evil intent. There would be no second Moreno.

Rob stepped off first at their designated floor and looked up and down the hall before encouraging Catherine to come out. She was not tentative. Rob's reassurance helped to calm her fears. He stayed with her until she reached the door to the suite of rooms where the meeting was to take place. Catherine had no doubt that Vincent wasn't far away either. They talked about her dependence on both the men in her life. Neither husband nor son was to be a crutch. She accepted Rob's role with a kinder heart. He was doing his job and was respectful of her space. She smiled at his impassive face.

'Thanks Rob. I think I'll be ok now.'

'I won't be far Catherine.'

'I know.' With a polite countenance in place, she entered the room.

Catherine hadn't been sure how many people would be in attendance at the meeting. The list she received from Howie had about ten names on it. Only one was vaguely familiar. From previous experience with voluntary community and social committees, she assumed that not everyone would be present at each meeting. These roles were meant to make the wealthy look like they were fulfilling social obligations, despite being rich. Catherine fixed a nervous smile on her face. After all, she was used to people much like those present, all her life.

Two young middle-aged women, well-dressed in diverse styles and a tall elegant looking man, well past his youth, turned at her entrance. They came forward with greetings, and welcoming gestures. Catherine had no idea how much information Howie shared with them. She would have been inclined to keep personal data to herself but she didn't want to seem aloof. She was fairly certain that each of them would have checked out her list of accomplishments and her social status as soon as her name was mentioned.

After formal self introductions, Marren Pierce, the taller and slimmer of the two women and clearly the leader, called the meeting to order. Catherine thought she might just listen and try to correlate what she was hearing with what she had read. As the time passed, she realized that the people on the committee had no idea of what real life was in the city. They talked in abstract about ideal situations in which mothers would hand over their babies if they couldn't look after them. They would be rehabilitated then the children would be returned. They were very proud of new programs in which women attended classes or support groups to help them reduce drug use. It all sounded idealistic. Catherine nodded and smiled but found it hard to figure out how they hoped to achieve anything with their narrow focus.

Missing from the overall program was any type of follow up or follow through which would give the young women life skills. Catherine raised the point.

'We don't have time and funding to do all those things Catherine. Reducing drug use should enable them to get back their babies and resume a normal life.'

'But if we fail to take into account the life and circumstance which led them to drug dependency and the possibility that they are not skilled in managing their resources, how can they hope to do anything but go back to the life they knew.

'Well, I'm sure that once they see how good life can be without the drugs, they wouldn't want to go back.'

'What would you consider a good life?'

'Really Catherine. Being off drugs is the goal. What experience have you had which would make you an expert?'

The question was a reasonable one. Catherine chose not to take offence although the tone was barely civil and condescending. There was a noticeable smugness on the face of Janet Knowles.

'None! It's not the life I lived.'

'We are all at a disadvantage here, trying to make decisions for a group of people whose experience is outside our own.' Jack Denton-Murray spoke up. His voice was soft, conciliatory. The two women deferred to him immediately.

'Perhaps this committee should have other members who bring a more practical approach.' Catherine offered. 'Who are these other people on the list? Do they come to meetings? Why are we the only ones who are here?'

The questions fell into a silence.

'Really, who has time Catherine? We promised the governor our reasonable support for his programs. Fund raising helps these causes and encourages corporate donations.' Janet was definitely annoyed. Her air of superiority rankled.

Catherine struggled to find a response. The people weren't there to help disadvantaged women in any practical way. They were there to generate corporate donations to causes. The questions fluttering on the tip of her tongue were simple. _Was the fundraising on behalf of other causes which were legitimate community programs and did the money actually go to the needy?_ The prosecutor in her woke up immediately but she adopted a nonchalant air. Catherine fought the desire to say more. She had a lot to learn before she could ask any more of those leading questions.

* * *

Philippe stepped off the plane in Montreal. It had been years since he returned to his alma mater. The successful record producer was well known in the world of music for his ability to bring out the best in his artistes. Outside of that tight knit world he garnered little attention. The unassuming man was held back by so many fears and disappointments. In the city of his highest highs and deepest lows, he walked like the prodigal returned home. Belgium was so far away and so long ago. It could never be home again. The streets of the cosmopolitan French Canadian city welcomed him with silence in the late night but also with the language of his childhood spoken readily everywhere he went. If he thought that his French was forgotten, he was amazed at the ease by which everything came back. The simple dialect of the Canadian French welcomed him. He laughed remembering that once upon a time his father thought that the change would have upset his sensibilities. No, he found the language and culture rich with nuances, not found in his native land.

The cooling autumn air filled his lungs. The changing leaves of early October fluttered and fell to the ground. Philippe walked street after street remembering his young adult years. His first day, stimulated by the sights and sounds, was filled with unbelievable memories. He left himself open to recalling everything possible about those special student days. Philippe did not try to connect with anyone. Google had been accessed extensively while preparing for his journey, checking out many places which had been favourites of his youth. He knew that most were gone from the landscape but he did not lament their passing. Despite the gnawing anxiety in the pit of his stomach, and the stimulating late night walk, Philippe slept surprisingly well.

The second day of his visit arrived, crisp and clear. He made the emotional effort to visit the university whose unique place in the landscape of Canada changed him for the better.

Philippe strolled leisurely along the pathways dotted throughout the McGill campus. Much had changed and yet much remained the same. Trees and shrubs were taller, new buildings had been added; the entire music department was housed in one of them but the grounds seemed less elitist and more inclusive. He neither felt at home nor strange. He had contributed a small part of himself to the history of the University. Philippe received more than he could imagine from his years there but he had also given a lot to the university.

Curious about that memorable contribution, he walked towards the Schulich building which housed the music arts department. It wasn't without some trepidation. He knew that his legacy would be there, visibly present, for him to look at and to remember events and people he tried to forget. If the purpose of the trip was to find a past and reconcile it with his present, he would have to face all his demons.

Encased in a glass cabinet and fixed to the wall was the very thing he dreaded. On the ground floor of the music campus was a series of photos, and trophies, lasting souvenirs representing visible evidence of his ability to create sound. In his final year, all the work began to pay off. Philippe was able to play almost any instrument, write music and perform exquisitely. His final year composition won top honours for the string quartet in which he played the cello. His jazzy blues tune was celebrated by the campus and media alike and his small rock band had a loyal following. In each of the photos, the faces of his friends stood out, reminding him of the happy times. Each visage, tinged with the exuberance of the times, was met with a corresponding sadness in his own. Two of his bandmates had succumbed to drugs. No one, except him, had been reasonably successful in the music industry and Hélène, who brought the real magic to the band, with her powerful raspy voice had become a shadow of herself.

Philippe longed to reach out and touch each of their photos but the glass protection kept him at bay. What could he achieve anyway? It had been more than forty years since they had all been together. He thought about the phrase made famous in some movie about 'getting the band back together'. It was out of the question since half of them were dead but he chuckled at the idea wondering what his band mates would be like if they were alive. Philippe didn't linger. The nostalgia was overwhelming. There were other issues waiting for his attention.

According to his Google inquires, Hélène still lived in the same area in which she had grown up. She was married and had several children. The sultry singer had been so much in love with him. Philippe remembered how painful it had been to reveal that he could not share her love although he was always grateful for her caring ways.

In the February of his final year, he made the trip south to the place of his childhood dreams. The long awaited trip to Mardi gras in Louisiana only confirmed what he knew to be true of himself. He had returned to Montreal, young, eager and thoughtful about the direction his life was taking.

Philippe struggled to move his feet forward. It had been over forty years since he last saw Hélène. Trepidation dogged every step of the way. _'How would she look? Did she hate him_? There was nothing he could say in defense of his actions. He only hoped she would have had a good life.

* * *

Catherine stared out the window of the brownstone. She was deep in thought. The meeting took its toll on her emotional health. In spite of her feelings, ideas elevated by her concern for the poor people of New York, raced through her consciousness. She didn't hear the door but turned in response to the sound of Cathy's voice.

'Are you worried about something Mom? You look distracted.'

'I am. This committee frustrates me and today is only the first time. How can anyone expect to help people if they don't have a clue what is really needed?'

Cathy chuckled lightly as she approached her mother in law.

'Do you think it's funny?'

'No Mom. Not at all.' Cathy wondered about the sharpness of the response. She thought Catherine was very fidgety, unlike herself. The loving daughter in law observed the behavior and remembered her conversation with Jacob a couple of days earlier. He asked Cathy to be on the lookout for any sign of stress. Clearly Catherine was not herself. Cathy kept her response light.

'I was thinking of our conversation yesterday. Remember you said you were unsure about how you would cope? Look at you now. One meeting and you were able to see right through those over dressed, philanthropists, paying lip service to community organizing.'

'You don't mince words do you? I am sorry to be so sharp. My nerves have been on edge lately.'

'Anything I can do?'

'No. Tell me about your day.'

Cathy didn't mind sharing her information about Holly but she sensed that Catherine needed some support. Instead of pushing confidences she chose instead to talk about plans for the warehouse space. As the project took on a life of its own, Cathy could sense a change.

'These are the things we should be looking into, not single service programs which do nothing except put people back on the street to resume an unhealthy lifestyle.'

'Tell me what I have to do. There's lots we could achieve with very little money.'

'Cathy you should come with me. They asked me today what I know about that life. I couldn't lie and I didn't want to say anything about what goes on below but you know what it means for these women to suffer such indignities. Think about it. It won't take much of your time.'

Cathy was flattered. It would mean something special. To be able to work at that level and really make a difference would allow more women to be helped. She knew that the closing of the Sanctuary would leave a huge gap in her life. If she could make a difference on a bigger scale that would be even better. 'I'd love to Mom! Working with you would be a dream come true.' she responded enthusiastically.

With a hug, Cathy was gone. She thought Catherine felt warm. She wondered if her mother in law was coming down with something. Perhaps a tonic was needed. Cathy would discuss it with Jacob.

A smile accompanied the vision of her husband working with the powerful energy which he seemed to be able to draw at will. If she were honest, his return to studying the untapped knowledge, inherent in his genetic make up, made him glow with its intensity. Beside his life force she felt energized but she could not duplicate his ability to tap into the future or the past. The visions which filled her nighttime hours in the days before terry's wedding were stuck. It was always the same swirling colours, vague pictures of movement which seemed to meld together into something unappealing. The dream felt comfortable but unsatisfactory because there was no discernable conclusion. Cathy was still not prepared to push forward against her nature. She hoped the images would become clearer, more well defined. As the weeks passed, they did not. She didn't push hard. Change was threatening to her. Somewhere in the recess of her mind, she knew the final details of her history were waiting to be revealed and soon! Learning to wait was just as important.

When she couldn't move mentally forward, her mind returned to the details of the love story between Knut and Arden. Its message of hope had been her guiding light ever since the beauty of it was revealed in her dreams. To know that those lovers struggled through an incredible journey, which was part of her history, made her proud. Their commitment to each other generated breathtaking support which validated the fulfillment of her own dreams in the love she shared with Jacob.

Cathy had the choice to prepare a delightful dinner for her loving spouse, but judging by the smells emanating from the kitchen downstairs, Sue was preparing something special. She abandoned the idea of cooking and entered her computer room. The dark screen of the computer did not beckon her. She took an MP3 player full of her music, attached ear phones and sat down in the comfortable love seat she and jacob often shared. Her mind could float freely while familiar tunes played.

* * *

Philippe stood in front of the abandoned looking bungalow located in Montreal just twenty minutes away from the campus. He had been to that house many times before but the years had not been kind to its exterior. _Did no one love it enough to care for it?_ he thought. The sun was setting. Inside appeared to be dark. _Hélène knew he was coming. Could she still be angry with him after all this time?_ Seeing her was part of his commitment to easing the ache in his heart. Perhaps it was a mistake. After all, his pain should not be measured against the memory of another's sorrow. The thoughts halted his footsteps at the the bottom of the steps, just as a light came on. It did not glow with life but emitted a hazy yellow beam reminiscent of a hospital room. A tiny thread of fear held him immobile. Before he could turn away, the door opened. He had no doubt in his mind that the woman who stood at the top of the stairs behind a rail, facing him was his beloved Hélène. In a strange flashback, he longed to recite poetry as he had done many times in school plays. She was older. Her hair was gray but its long lush beauty, even in her middle age, remained mesmerizing.

They stared at each other for a long time, saying nothing. Philippe mounted the three steps to the front door and stood in front of the only woman he could ever have loved, if nature had made him differently.

'Hélène' he managed at last. To his surprise, the voice was a hoarse whisper. Could that sound be coming from him?

She continued to hold his eyes. No sound could be heard but tears fell freely.

'I thought I would never see you again.' she said slowly, in English.

The pain was still there, palpable in every fiber. Philippe gathered her into his arms. She had not gained one ounce since he last saw her. She was as thin as she had always been but the unique voice held him spellbound. It was the one part of her which he could love unconditionally. When she spoke, the vibration of it touched his heart and filtered through his whole being. He longed to hear her sing. She said nothing more. Releasing herself reluctantly from his arms, Hélène pulled him inside.

* * *

Jacob arrived home, full of life and energy. He found his wife, seated in the computer room. The ear phones, plugged into an endless source of music, were clearly pouring out some beloved old tune. Her eyes were closed but the head bobbed in opposition to the body, each in time with the up and down beat. He wondered how she could do that.

Cathy knew he was there. Without opening her eyes, she reached out a hand, inviting him to join her on the loveseat. She waited until the end of the song before speaking.

'I love that tune' she sighed into the void.

'As much as you love me?'

'No, more…..'

'Will I ever be number one in your life?' he pleaded, hand on heart.

Normally, the silly questions would generate some smart remark but Cathy seemed disinclined to banter.

'You will never be number two to anything in my life Jacob. You are unique.'

Thank you for saying that. I will never forget that awesome responsibility. You're very serious though. Is everything alright?'

'I spoke with Mom today. You're right. She seems edgy. I think she's going through change of life.'

'Of course she's changing her life!'

'No. You men don't know anything about women's problems. Listen, I thought at first she was feverish, maybe coming down with a cold, but when I thought about a couple of other things, like… you know… your parents recent intensity in love…. ' Cathy was embarrassed but plodded on. 'Well that's what happens when women change.'

'Change what?'

Cathy gave her husband a wide eyed stare. 'Sue is making a special dinner and it's ready. Let's eat! Then I am going to give you an anatomy lesson.'

Jacob laughed. Cathy was a tease but he knew she would help him to understand what was happening with his mother. If the anatomy lesson extended beyond his mother's concerns, that would please him too.


	4. Chapter 4

The stale smell of cigarettes was overwhelming and distasteful to a non smoker. Philippe did not see Hélène actually smoke and neither of her parents had been smokers. She had always taken such good care of herself. Someone else had lived in the house who didn't care about her well-being. Protecting her voice box was almost an obsessive act in their younger days. He looked around the living room. It seemed as abandoned as the outside walls. The furniture was threadbare in many places. Nothing seemed new. He didn't know where to begin.

'I can see that you find my home, not to your liking.'

'I am not here to judge you Hélène . Surely you don't think that of me.'

'I don't know what to think of you Philippe. In forty years, is today the first day you could come to see me?'

Philippe hung his head. He didn't come to visit because she married someone else as soon as he walked away. It hurt more than he admitted at the time.

'You were married, happy. I had no place in your life.' Before she could confirm or deny the painful truth, he went on to ask about the people he remembered. 'Is your mother...?'

'No. She died twelve years ago. Papa still lives. He doesn't know me. I visit but it is meaningless to him.'

Hélène was depressed. It was obvious in all her actions and responses. She had been close to her father. Of everyone in her life except Philippe, Robert Halter had been the only one to encourage her to pursue her musical dreams. Madeleine Halter had been a tyrannical mother, pushing her children mercilessly. To her, an overly educated woman was a waste of time. Her Anglophone husband tried to support his children but she overruled him on every issue. Hélène had tried to overcome the imbalance of her family but it was nearly impossible.

'Where is your husband?'

'He left me long ago. I raised my children alone.'

'How many Hélène?'

'Five...no four.'

'Is it five or four.'

'One died. I don't count her.'

The conversation was painful. Philippe wondered why he had come. It was impossible to push back the clock and yet he felt such a strong need to resolve something with this woman. She offered him tea but he declined asking instead if she would join him for dinner. The half smile which flitted across her face gave him hope. Clearly, she had not eaten out for a long time. In response to her question of where, he asked her to choose. She stayed away from places they might have frequented as students and chose instead a clean established local restaurant close to her home. Before leaving, Hélène changed into something less frayed than the simple dress she had been wearing.

While waiting for her, Philippe recalled how beautiful Hélène had been. She had long flowing hair which bounced off her back and shoulders showing a life of its own. He watched her return to the living room marvelling at the silvery gray strands of colour which matched his own but looked lovely and thick. She wore it, pulled to one side and held in place with a wide clip. The curly ends fell gently over one shoulder giving her an innocently seductive air. Philippe assisted her with a light coat. She smiled her thanks. For a moment, Hélène was a teenager again, reacting with heart flutters to the gracious young man from abroad, who had stolen her heart with his elegant manners.

* * *

Catherine was frustrated. Vincent sent a message that he would be held up below. An apparent crisis needed his attention. Catherine hardly moved from the window seat. She had gotten up briefly to eat with her son and daughter in law. During dinner, she said little beyond the trite phrases which would reassure their obvious concern. She wasn't fooling anyone.

Cathy and Jacob praised Sue. The dinner was quite remarkable. The indispensable housekeeper was taking some courses in cooking. The family had benefitted from her magic touch in the kitchen but not even the delicious curry shrimp stew could tempt Catherine's unreserved praise. A wan smile indicated her thanks before she excused herself.

'See what I mean. Mom ate a pretty good dinner but she's distracted.' Cathy had whispered to Jacob.

Catherine didn't care what anyone thought. She wanted her husband. As the minutes ticked by, she jumped up from the window seat and put on her coat. There was no reason at all why she had to wait. She had enough of being the invalid. Her steps did not falter as she quickly made her way across the park.

Her agitation communicated itself to Vincent. She did not have to go far before the long strides of her husband were seen at the end of the tunnel.

'Don't ask me if I am alright. I am. I just wondered what was keeping you.'

If Vincent was taken aback by the abruptness of his wife, he didn't let on. 'I have always tried to be there for you, if you need me.`

'I need you now and you were not here.`

Vincent wanted to laugh but stifled it with an effort. There was something peculiar about this new woman who blew hot and cold, up and down and yet desired him in a way which was unlike any experience he ever had. Catherine's face was the picture of seriousness. He took her words at face value.

'All the better then that you have come to me. Let`s go below. I want to show you something.`

What ever was upsetting her, in the face of her husband`s calm, Catherine said nothing. His outstretched hand pulled her to him for a brief hug before she followed meekly behind his back. The lower they moved into the tunnel, the more ashamed she became of her uncharacteristic behaviour. Ever since the wedding, she had changed. Sometimes Catherine liked the feminine aura which surrounded her, but every time she had that burst of energy, it was accompanied by strange feelings, rising heat and desire which seemed out of control.

Vincent guided his puzzled wife to the waterfalls. A new channel of water suddenly opened up below. The abundance of late summer rain had caused some flooding into the lower chambers and the men had to divert what was becoming a new and potentially dangerous river. The area was re-fashioned into a beautiful spot using some rocks and sand bags. The tumbling water fall sent sprays and tiny droplets everywhere.

`When the sun comes through in the morning it will be like a magical place.`

'It already is Vincent.` Feeling more calm after the energetic walk, Catherine relaxed. In the special place where she and Vincent had spent many happy hours, she never failed to get a sense of renewal.

`Sit down Catherine. I am not ready to go back up yet.`

`Sue has created a masterpiece for dinner.`

'It can wait. You can`t.'

Thankful for her husband`s sensitivity, she gave herself up to the moment. At the back of her mind, Catherine acknowledged the need to figure out what was happening. Clearly, her actions and responses were strange. The only good thing was that her dear husband was there to fulfill all her needs.

* * *

'So what you`re saying is that the body keeps trying to push out eggs even when the womb doesn`t want them?'

`Something like that. The urges and surges are normal.`

`How come you know all this? `

`When you live in a trailer park community, there are lots of old folks around. Down in Florida, the senior women used to get together and talk about their hot flashes, their sex lives, their weird dreams. I used to hear all about hormones and replacement therapy. It was strange stuff for a kid but they were funny.'

'So do you think mom would be better if she took the hormone replacement?'

'Don't ask me. You're the one who can tell what people need. I am pretty sure that she wouldn't take tablets but she might do something natural.' Cathy paused. She had a quirky smile. 'When I checked it out online the web site said that good sex helps a lot.'

Jacob looked at his wife, wondering whether she was teasing him again. 'How soon will you be in menopause?' he asked innocently.

'Not anytime soon, I hope. I'd like to have children before then.' Cathy paused. The twinkle was soon replaced by a sultry look.

* * *

Philippe and Hélène ate in a desultory fashion. The food was good but the issues which lay between them went unsaid. He spoke about his business in LA and she talked of the unexciting '_do nothing and go nowhere' _jobs which she had taken to help support her family.

'Don't you sing any more?' he asked gently.

'Parfois' she responded without missing a beat. The French word was out of her mouth without a second thought. Philippe and Hélène had always spoken English. The young Belgian wanted to learn the local language when he first arrived. It was hard to find anyone who would speak English. The Quebec natives were in a struggle for language rights and anyone speaking English was ostracized. Because her father was not French Canadian Hélène was bilingual and spoke both languages fluently. She obliged his need to learn. It was a habit they never broke except in arguments over how the word 'sometimes' should be translated. It was her favourite repsonse to most questions. She often used the colloquial word desfois which made him laugh. As a tribute to the few small differences in culture, Philippe wrote a song for her. It had been a popular request when their fledgling band played in clubs around the city.

'Sing for me Helene...please,' he added when she began to shake her head. He asked again in French. Tears filled her eyes. She began in a soft voice...

_When the mists of your love_

_Reach out to my heart_

_In the softness of your voice_

_Sometimes I surrender and sometimes not_

_The power of your love_

_Gives me little choice_

_I ache for your touch_

_Sometimes I surrender and sometimes not._

Lorsque les brumes de ton amour  
Tendez la main à mon cœur  
Dans la douceur de votre voix  
Parfois, je me rends, et parfois pas  
La puissance de ton amour  
Donne-moi peu de choix  
J'ai mal pour votre contact  
Parfois, je me rends, et parfois non.

'You have not lost your touch. I can't believe how beautiful you sound. My God Hélène, your voice is like a young girl.'

'Please Philippe. Don't say so.'

Helene got up from the table and ran to the ladies room. She stayed so long that he thought she left without him but her coat and purse were still at the table. When she eventually emerged her eyes were red-rimmed and incredibly sad.

'Can we go? I can't take anymore.'

He hailed a taxi. The evening was chilly. She seemed so fragile and he didn't want her to walk. Philippe took her to the front door. He wanted to stay with her longer and wondered if he should. His visit opened doors into her heart. Perhaps they were better left closed and yet, he didn't want to leave her unattended. It seemed she was truly alone.

Hélène apparently wanted him to come in. She entered the house quickly but did not close the door behind her. Wracking sobs could be heard. Philippe was rendered immobile with the sound. She threw herself carelessly in an awkward position face down on the couch. He could see her hunched shoulders rise and fall. For a long time Philippe felt impotent to help her but compassion for her feelings drove him to her side. She turned in his arms. Her head rested against his shoulder. Minutes or hours passed before a hoarse whisper could override the heartbreak.

'I am so sorry. It has been so many years….years of sadness and shame. No one would or could understand. After our daughter died, my heart was broken. I could not carry on and the other children suffered so badly. Guy was angry with me all the time and I blamed myself but he…what he did…was…was..despicable. I could not forgive him. He left, but the children loved him and hated me for breaking up the family. Now they don't come to see me unless they want something.'

Hélène talked rapidly. Her words and sentences ran together. Philippe could hardly make out half of it. His attention was centered on her anguish and trying yo offer the best comfort he could manage. The years had not been kind to this dear friend of his. To raise children alone, was enough but to have the children believe that only one parent was responsible for the breakup of a family, struck a responsive chord in his heart.

His own father made a unilateral decision not to accept him and therefore placed a deep and irreversible rent in the fabric of the family which would last many lifetimes. Philippe was empathetic to her anguish. He used soft and tender words to comfort Hélène until she ceased to sob. Her apology was dismissed kindly.

'You had a need ma mignonne, and I was happy to help in its liberation. You pleased me a lot with your voice tonight. I think it released something inside both of us.'

'Philippe, you will not leave right away will you? I would like to have your company for awhile, a few days perhaps? It takes time for me to ….understand things. You know that. I hope you can?'

'Of course, I am free. It was my wish that we could spend some time sharing. You were such an important part of my life.'

Hélène seemed to want to say more but held her peace. Philippe would not stay with her for the night and she did not want to embarrass him with her pleadings. She had done enough of that in the past. She held his look with a slight smile, kissed him lightly on the lips and allowed him to leave. It was easier knowing that he would come back, even if it was not forever.

* * *

Many hours later, Philippe lay awake in his hotel room. The sheets were clean. Everything smelled fresh . The room was decorated with beautiful elegant furniture but loneliness choked him in the darkness. There was no piano for comfort. The large bed with its pristine white sheets felt cold. After a dutiful call to Vladimir he let his mind wander in all directions, reliving the entire evening, recalling Hélène's words, her song, her voice and the breakdown which said volumes about the life she had lived. If anything, he would have wanted a better life for her, but it was not something which he could control or even change. Philippe held himself responsible at least in part.

On the day when Philippe had told his best friend that he could never be the lover she desired, her eyes registered shock, dismay. Did he misread it? Was she surprised more by the fact that he was leaving than the fact that he could not love her? His mind floated back in time.

Philippe had undertaken the trip of a lifetime. Many friends told him of the fun to be had in New Orleans, validating his youthful desire. He was encouraged to attend the Mardi gras. It was a life altering experience. Although he was looking for time spent immersed in the music of his dreams, he was also ready to let go and have fun. He knew that deep inside he was different. His long term relationship with Hélène was going nowhere. He loved her but intimacy was difficult. Everything he could do to avoid being alone with her, he had tried until the inevitable happened. He was young and able but the intimacy failed to make a dent in his psyche. As they focused energy on the exams of their final year, he was able to stay away.

He told her that any relationship beyond friendship was out of the question. She made it personal and avoided him for weeks. Their work brought them together towards the end of the school year but she still did not get it. Philippe could hardly put a name to his own feelings. To Hélène it seemed like a total rejection. In a moment of weakness brought on by the pain he caused, they spent a last weekend together, but it was definitely clear to Philippe that to go on would be futile.

How will I ever be able to rise above this, he thought even as the sun was sending slivers of light through the hotel window.

* * *

Jacob choose to make his trip below the challenge of the day. Kurt had no small amount of work for him but he ploughed through it almost without effort. In the confines of his office he was able to work at incredible speeds to complete assignments, review and check files and research any cases which seemed stymied in the system. No one knew what he did except Kurt and nothing was said about the amazing efficiency of a department which had previously been known for delay.

If Kurt had been dissatisfied with any long or short term consequences of allowing Jacob the extra time, he would put a stop to it immediately but the two had a complete understanding and Kurt could not be anything less than grateful that his young defender had exceptional skills.

As the fall weather became more and more chilly in the nights, Jacob retreated to the tunnels in the afternoon, leaving his evenings free for family. Much of his time centered on the creation of concoctions which would help the children below. His mother's change of life became the impetus for rediscovering his skill as a healer. The formula left to him by John Pater lay unused since he brought it to life for Edgar Raeburn but he soon discovered that a drop or two could enhance the perfection of other formula. Many of the sick ones below needed care beyond the limits of Celeste and her helpers. He cared as much about their wellbeing as he did about defending hapless criminals. If his time could be divided between law and healing, in a balance which did not interfere with his relationships, then he would be happy.

Timothy, his spirit guide had been a defender of the rights of the poor. His existence many aeons ago, and now reawakened in Jacob, guided the young man to learn. Jacob felt as if he had been waiting forever for the disembodied voice which was to guide his learning. Layla had been a shaman of the past, versed in the ways of the world. She would guide his passage into transfer of energy from one state to another, helping Jacob to understand the gift he had already discovered in his hands. In preparation for this work, he was required to strengthen his body and find his power. He would need to draw on the elements of the earth to renew his strength each time he gave up his resources to save another. It was a delicate balance which he had nearly lost, first with Kardin and then Virgil.

Jacob had no doubt that others would come to challenge him. For a long time he had avoided, either by design or desire, the needs of his heritage. His father never spoke of the possibilities although Vincent hinted to his son that a greater destiny was waiting for his awakening. What Jacob had done, since finding his mother, on a day to day basis was a necessary grounding for the work which was coming his way. Living life as normally as possible allowed the young man to grow, be humble and steady in outlook but the forces driving his DNA could not be contained forever.

As Jacob rose over the top stone on his long walk, he felt a strength take hold of the taut body, pounding in his lower back, drawing energy into his system and giving him a fierce pride. Like he had done everyday, his walk was filled with sights and sounds which he absorbed through another part of his unconscious being. He knew that in a moment, he could recall every detail of the journey if he wished. Once below, he moved cat like across the rocks and stones, clinging with unerring agility until he mastered the jumps and landings reminiscent of a much more nimble feline than the majestic, but lazy lion of his ancestry.

The Sanctuary which he and Cathy helped to create was silent. Within a few days of her visit to the warehouse, Cathy and Holly had made the transition, leaving the tomb of his grandmother undisturbed by anyone except the gentle giants who guarded the area. Jacob was not yet ready to move his entire source of information to the space. The book of shadows, left by John Pater remained hidden in his chambers. When he was confident that the area was secure, Jacob would create his own workshop and dispensary, just as his grandfather had done.

In the meantime, the organized and well functioning lab was ready and waiting. Catherine needed a tonic for her life altering changes and two more babies were showing signs of starvation. Cathy would be tied up at the new facility until late, therefore he did not need to hurry. Jacob sat on a work bench, crosslegged, and welcomed his spirit guides acknowledging in a silent prayer of receptivity, that he was ready to learn.

* * *

'We are going to the old city Mignonne.'

'You can't be serious. This is lovely, such a beautiful car, but a long drive Philippe? How will you manage?'

'We are going to stay over.'

'What? You didn't say that on the phone. I didn't bring any clothes. I have nothing with me.'

'Are you taking any pills which you need?'

'No.'

'Then all you need is right here with you.'

Helene had never been able to fight against the logic of her friend. When he called her mid-morning to say that they were going for a drive, she didn't imagine it would be to Quebec City. Philippe had never been spontaneous. He was always deliberate and careful in everything. The treat was welcome but she had no idea what he planned. Nothing exciting had happened to her in a long time.

What she understood since his return, that she didn't understand as a young woman was that he could not love any woman ever. Over their dinner the previous night he talked of his life partner and husband in a way which she envied, but it was clear that Vladimir was the one person who could make him happy. Over the years since he left her sobbing on the same step which heralded his return, she blamed herself for failing to meet his needs by being a needy, weepy woman. If only she could have been honest with him then, but life chose a different path for her.

They drove along the lovely St. Lawrence river, chatting. Neither spoke about the tearful breakdown the previous night but a warm hug when he arrived to pick her up was reassuring. He seemed to know that she needed time to share the traumatic events of her life without pressure. She wasn't generally happy but the overwhelming sadness was manageable.

'What are you thinking about Hélène. You are very thoughtful.'

'I understand you a little better I think. I had lots of time to review our conversation last night.'

'Me too. I can't imagine the sadness you have carried for so long. How painful that must be. Vladimir has a son who was taken away by his mother. Both of them were devastated. by the separation. At least Vlad knew he would see him again someday.'

'I had hoped to see my daughter too. When she first disappeared I prayed every day that she would come back but it was months before the police found what they think was her body.'

'What? I thought she died as a child of some disease. You did not tell me this part of the story. Was she kidnapped?'

Helene turned her head and looked out the window of the car. The moment of truth was upon her. She couldn't recall everything she had said the previous night. Obviously a lot of the jumbled information was not clear enough for him to get the gist of the story. Words tumbled from her lips in release. She wanted to blurt out the entire sordid story from start to finish but the outcome would always be the same and she had no wish to hurt the man at her side, although a few years ago she would have done so without a second thought.

'Tell me the story Mignonne. Please?'

Philippe reached out a hand to squeeze one of her own. The long fingers, which could caress any instrument and draw the most beautiful sound from its source, did the same for the distracted woman. She spoke softly at first before gathering strength for a conversation which she knew would be difficult.

'As you know Philippe, my mother wanted me to marry Guy. She was convinced that he would be a steady husband. She didn't think you would want me with your fancy European airs and if you did, you would take me away somewhere else. She was insistent that I be here. You know how she could be. The truth is that I hated Guy. He was always trying to grab me and force me to do things I didn't like. It was you I wanted.

After that trip to Mardi gras, you changed. I could sense it but didn't know why. I thought it was because of me. Later, after Ottawa I had just about given up hope. When we got back from Woodstock, I realized that I was pregnant. I had never been with anyone but you. That day you came to see me at home, and said you were leaving. I couldn't believe it was the end. As I stood on the step and listened to your goodbye, I could not find the words to tell you I was having your baby!'

Philippe immediately pulled the car off to the side of the road. His body had gone into a state of shock at some level of his being. Helene had been pregnant for him! That knowledge sent him into a tailspin. As soon as he realized that he had conceived a daughter with his bien aimee, he also had to acknowledge with a sinking heart that she was dead!


	5. Chapter 5

Blunt V

Philippe lay his head back, breathing deeply in an effort to not feel lost by the news, good and bad. He wanted the story, the entire story but his emotions needed to be identified and acknowledged.

'Do you want to go back?'

A negative nod of the head was all the response he could muster.

'I will drive. Move over.' Philippe managed a slight chuckle. He had heard those words from her many times in their younger days. Quite often, the band or quartet would rent a car to travel to the many competitions and concerts which were part of their university experience. The guys always got drunk. Hélène rarely did. She drove while the others spent their time sleeping off the effects of the liquor.

'The last time you said that to me was in Ottawa when we won the national finals.'

'That was also the time when I got pregnant,' Hélène answered putting the car in gear and moving back into traffic.

'What?'

'Philippe, I spent so many nights fighting with my body's desire for you. The few times when I could entice you to be with me were like a dream come true. I remember all of them.'

'Hélène, I am so sorry. Really sorry.'

'I understand that now. It was hard then.'

Silence fell between them.

'Tell me the story. Everything!' he pleaded into the quiet. Eyes stared straight ahead.

'When we went to Ottawa in May, I understood that you had mixed feelings for me. I knew if I was ever going to capture your heart, it would be my last chance. We were so successful that night. I couldn't imagine that we would win the trophy but your music... we played it with so much heart...'

Philippe glanced at her. He was captivated by the voice, remembering her engaging hand gestures. She had not changed. He said nothing.

'I didn't know I was pregnant until after we got back from New York. Whatever happened to you in New Orleans was nothing compared to the way you changed after Woodstock.'

'I met Vladimir there. He was already married to Sandy and they had a child. She stayed with her family who lived nearby on that trip. His band had came to Woodstock for the music and they played back up for one of the performers. He and I met by accident and we clicked. You were off somewhere with Nicole for most of saturday afternoon before the rain fell. It was the first time I really felt the truth of who I was.'

'From that time eh? When you came to see me after we got back from Woodstock, I knew it was the end. I finally believed my mother. She always said you would never marry me. She figured out I was pregnant and told me I should marry Guy as soon as possible. I slept with him once, accepted his proposal and cried every day until he finally left me.'

'Did he know?'

'That she wasn't his?' At her affirmative nod, Philippe shifted in the car and ran his fingers through the thin crop of silver hair on his head.

'He didn't know right away. She was small. It was easy to say she was premature but after the others were born, it became clear that she was not. All my children are dark. She was beautiful, fair skinned, with the prettiest golden hair and blue eyes. She was something special...always singing and dancing, playing dress up and pretending to be a royal princess. She was different from her siblings. They were afraid of her. She had a funny kind of way of being. They treated her differently. On the day when she confronted me about her real father, she said _"I always felt like I was on the outside of this family looking in, never part of it. How could you allow that man to pretend to be my father?"_ I was heartbroken. Guy attempted to have sex with her. When she tried to stop him he told her the truth.'

Whatever feelings Philippe held onto, they could no longer be denied. Tears flowed freely from his eyes. Hélène again questioned him about stopping but he shook his head and encouraged her to keep going. With her words, Philippe knew that his visit to Saugerties for the wedding triggered the need to see Hélène even though the idea didn't come until much later. He and Vladimir had been so caught up in Jason and Terry's wedding that neither of them even remembered their first meeting had not been far away. Perhaps Vlad couldn't remember, he thought. Everyone had been pretty stoned that weekend. Things had gotten so out of hand between the crowds, the music, the drugs and the rain. Hélène remained quiet, allowing him to process whatever demons raged in his head.

Philippe and another band member had heard about the event and wanted so badly to experience Woodstock. He encouraged his musical group to get together, rent a van and drive down for the weekend. No one knew what to expect but it was a wildly unique, once in a lifetime happening. They didn't hang out together all the time but moved around the grounds taking in all the sights and sounds. When Hélène and her friend Nicole wandered off, Philippe was left to himself but he soon made friends with other musicians. Meeting Vladimir was strange. They stood side by side watching the same intense performance. In the anonymity of the surroundings they got to talking. The son of Russian émigrés and the young Belgian had nothing in common but struck up a conversation which never seemed to end. Philippe was mesmerized. When he heard Vladimir play, he knew he would have to meet up with him again. They exchanged names and addresses. Philippe was headed to LA.

There was more to be heard from Hélène. The shifting scenery helped to move the visions of Woodstock inside his head to another dimension. In time he would listen to a little more about the daughter he never knew.

* * *

Catherine was awed by the sight before her. She had not seen the warehouse before but whatever it had been, the sanctuary turned working women's hospice was apparently busy and productive. Large industrial machines were being installed. Women were cleaning and painting the walls. In another corner children were playing in an area which had a low wall separating them from the other activity. One person was keeping watch. There were work tables, rolls of material, walls covered with notice boards and chalk boards already busy with designs. Lena's place sanctuary had become LENA. Loving Empowerment, Nurturing Activity. Catherine was so proud of her daughter-in-law she could hardly contain her happiness.

'Cathy I don't know what to say. You had to let go of something special and yet you have left a wonderful mark for the future. This is the kind of activity our social committee should support.'

'Mom, I am so glad that you like it. Holly has made a lot of this possible. When she decides to move on an idea, she's unstoppable. I know she says I saved her life but she didn't have to make the space available as well as provide all the manpower to move the equipment. Come, let me show you the upstairs.'

Catherine chose to walk up the short flight. The more she went out and became involved in the activities of daily living, the more her balance and strength returned. She no longer feared walking up and down stairs. The rooms on the upper floor were not fancy but they were private and the door leading to the upper floor was security enhanced. A mother and one or two children could easily be accommodated in each room.

'How have you set this up Cathy?'

'It's a charitable organization. We hope to fund raise but I want to keep it private and not government funded. Holly has agreed to support it for six months but we hope that the clothes will sell, which would make the women self sufficient. Donations, on the other hand, will pay for upkeep.'

'You've worked this out beautifully. Did I tell you that I was proud of you?'

Catherine hugged her resourceful and kind hearted daughter in law. She knew there was a lot of help available but Cathy could be stubborn about taking advantage of opportunities which would make things easier. A flash of heat suddenly threatened to overwhelm her. Catherine sat down on one of the chairs breathing heavily. Both her son and husband sensed the moment of panic. Jacob, who was below mixing just what she would need, sent out a message of peace and calm. He knew she was with Cathy and did not worry unduly.

Vincent too paused in his activity but only briefly. He had sensed that her moods and hot flashes were a natural course. A few words with Jacob reassured him. He had seen that kind of female change before. Since he benefitted the most from her resurgence, he simply hoped she would embrace it as a sign of her maturity. Jacob had indicated that her improved health was largely responsible for the body taking a normal course. The good and bad of it amused everyone except Catherine.

'I just don't know what's come over me Cathy. It isn't that warm and yet I feel hot. I think I have to get to the doctor.'

'Mom, it's just change of life.'

'What life? How much more can I change my life than what I've done already?'

Cathy was also amused. If she had ever wondered about Jacob's parentage, in that moment it was totally clear. Catherine looked and responded exactly as her son had done.

'Come on, let's go. This long overdue talk is going to take awhile,' she smiled.

Cathy took her mother in law by the hand. As they made their way down stairs it was Cathy's turn to feel strange. She had the sense of wind blowing through her hair. It was disquieting. We are all getting funny she thought shaking off the weird feeling.

Rob waited in the van for both women who were on their way to an uptown meeting with another member of the committee. Catherine wanted to introduce her daughter in law to the group as the voice of reality but she wasn't sure, after only one meeting, how the others would accept her. Officially, a woman named Susana Palermo was in charge but failed to attend meetings more than once or twice a year. Her husband was a friend of Howie. For part of the ride, Catherine looked out onto the street allowing the slight breeze to blow over her face.

'Rob, stop the van,' she called out suddenly.

Startled by the abrupt and unexpected order Rob pulled over and turned around to check on the two women in the back.

'Everything alright?'

'That restaurant over there...I want to go in. Come on Cathy.'

Rob jumped out and opened the door for the women. He watched as they walked across the road. Cathy knew this wasn't about change of life. Catherine remembered something from her past. They pushed open the door and walked in. The place wasn't full nor was it particularly clean but Catherine was purposeful.

'This is where I first met your mother. I had spoken to her on the phone. I felt she was in deep trouble and this is where I arranged to meet her. Right here in this booth,' Catherine said.

Cathy ran her hand across the rough surface of the table. She made as if to sit down but was halted.

'No, she sat on this side and I sat facing her.'

Both women looked at each other across the booth. For Catherine the memory brought Lena's face into focus for the first time. She looked at her daughter in law seeing a little of the troubled mother, mostly in the eyes which filled with tears.

'What did she say? Was she happy then or was she sad?'

'I never saw her happy Cathy, except on the day you were born. When I met her here, she...she talked about living on the outside looking in, never being a part of anything.'

'Youse guys want sumthin to eat?' They hadn't heard the waitress approach but they could smell her.

'Just a cup of tea please.'

Cathy nodded in agreement. Neither of them would drink a thing in the restaurant. The waitress looked like she hadn't showered in days but ordering would give them more time without being harassed. Alina, according to a faded name tag, brought the tea with a toothy grin, hoping for a tip which might make her day. The two women obliged. Cathy was happy for the few minutes in which she could walk in her mother's footsteps. Sharing the memory pleased her immensely. Catherine could sense the pleasure. It made their day. They were soon on their way.

* * *

'Where are we going now Philippe?'

'It's just at the top of that rise. We'll stay there tonight. Do you remember it?'

Hélène did. It had been years but they came here quite a few times. The hotel had been the safest and closest to their performance venue. It really seemed that her companion wanted to take several walks down memory lane. Despite not having luggage, the concierge helped them settle without question in a large room with two queen beds. To be sure, Hélène was confused but her concerns were soon settled.

'It was not my intention to do things this way. What you told me today made me realize that we need to talk beyond the normal catching up between old friends. I cannot stay in your home and my hotel is too sterile. We have memories here.' Philippe stood in front of her, hands on her shoulders. His face was intense with the hurt. 'I need a hour or two to think. Drive down to the main street and buy some clothes or whatever you need and something for me. I will be fine and ready for more when you return. If I am not here, I will be at the church.'

Philippe handed her his credit card, held her gently for a few minutes before kissing her cheek and letting her go. Hélène felt no shame in taking the card. Philippe had money and she had none. He trusted her and she trusted him. Indeed they had much to discuss. She lived the loss of their child, he did not. She had time to recover and accept the grief into her being. He had a right to the same.

After Hélène left he made a phone call to Vlad, telling him of the surprising and sad news.

'Do you want me to come there?'

'In a heartbeat but I think this is something I must work out with Hélène. You are OK with this Vlad?'

'You sound like the man I met forty years ago.'

'The accent?'

'Yes and the uncertainty. I am less than a day away if you need me.'

Phillipe was reassured by the comforting words.

* * *

'Tell me about Vlad. You have said little about him. Does he know?' Helene asked softly.

'Yes we have no secrets. He will understand completely.' Philippe went on to talk about the long relationship punctuated by nearly ten years of separation. Vlad and Sandy had a good life. Philippe knew that it would have been futile to expect more. His feelings were put on hold so that their working relationship could thrive. The band became quite successful. To augment a meagre income from playing gigs, Vladimir refused to give up his work on the police force. After four years, the strain took its toll. Philippe was constantly depressed, taking medication to keep alert and then something to sleep. His productivity decreased. Eventually he bowed out. Vlad acknowledged the strain but could not renege on his wedding vows, no matter what he felt otherwise. Philippe returned to New York to attend graduate school and Vladimir and Sandy worked at their marriage. It was important for them to be good parents.

The two old friends sat cocooned in a corner booth of the restaurant. They ate local food. Hélène had shopped well. The dress was bright but fitting and appropriate for a mature woman. She purchased a clean shirt and Jacket for Philippe plus the extras they would need overnight. The serviceable pyjamas were a clear indicator that the relationship had moved to a state of deep friendship.

Hélène had called her oldest son Nathaniel asking him to watch the house while she was away. 'He is the only one who I can depend on,' she confided to her friend. They finished their dinner in companionable silence. Philippe knew that it was time for him to hear the story of his daughter. He offered two choices. 'I am happy to sit at the hotel but you know my love is always to walk. If you are up to it, we can walk the streets of the old city. There, I feel safe and closer to my Belgium than anywhere else.

While the sad story of their daughter's life unfolded, the pair walked arm in arm along the streets of the old city of Quebec.

'Madeleine, our daughter, was as I told you, a beautiful girl, full of fun and laughter. She loved to dress up in funny clothes, mine mostly but also her grandmother's old fashioned things. I could never get her to wear her school uniform beyond the strict classroom hours. All her life she wanted to be a princess. Someday she was going to marry her handsome prince who would come from Spain to marry her.'

'You named her for your mother?'

'Yes, Philippe. It is our tradition just as I am named for mine. I could not disrespect my mother. You know how she was.'

'I do.'

'Madeleine never stopped talking until the day Guy ...well... did what he did.'

Philippe felt his abdomen tighten. Anger rose in him. He would deal with Guy much later. Hélène continued her narrative.

'After Madeleine confronted me I could say little in defense of my actions or yours.'

'Hélène, I hated how things were left between us. I came back during the American Thanksgiving holiday only to be told by your mother that you were happily married and expecting. It was just three months after I left. I never thought the pregnancy could be mine. The impression she gave me was that it was you and Guy all along and you couldn't wait for me to be out of your life to marry him.'

'Oh the lies, the lies. I would have given anything for you to sweep me off my feet and marry me. Don't worry Philippe, I understand now but I do believe that you would have been a wonderful father even if you couldn't be a husband to me. Sadly, hindsight is twenty- twenty eh?'

'Thank you for saying that. I would have been so proud.' They walked on a little further, taking the funiculli down to a lower level street. It would lead to the river. Sometimes it could be quite chilly but the night was fairly warm. They were comfortable, walking arm in arm, sharing their body heat. Hélène continued when she could speak of those last months.

'When Madeleine returned home with her bag, I thought she had forgiven me. Instead she told me that Grandmère said you had walked out on me. It was all my fault that she didn't have the right father. She demanded to know her real name. Then she said that she was going to find you even if it took a lifetime. She was only fifteen Philippe. What was her lifetime after that?'

Hélène broke down then. Philippe guided her to a bench nearby. They sat for a long time watching the winking lights shimmering on the river. 'What happened to her?'

'She didn't get far. I never thought she would leave Montreal but I did tell her that the last time I saw you, you were going to America. For her, that was New York. I don't know how she crossed the border, but it wasn't hard then. There was no way to prevent her leaving. I contacted the police to see if I could stop her. They said no. For months, I heard nothing until the RCMP came to the house. They had a few things, some jewellery, burnt clothes to identify. I knew what belonged to her. Apparently she had been staying in a hostel on an interstate route common to runaways. There was a fire. She was burned beyond... I got what few ashes they could find and buried them in the cemetery near home.'

Silence fell between them again. Philippe drew from his memory.

'Don't blame yourself Hélène,' he said patting her hand. 'My life changed in so many ways after I said goodbye to you. I had called my father to tell him of my true nature. He disowned me, disavowed everything to do with me and asked me never to use the family name again. I was lost even to myself.'

'I didn't know that about you. The truth is that there was so little I could tell her. You never really spoke much about your family.'

'I know. My father was never happy with me leaving Belgium. He really expected me to return home, get married and continue with the family business.'

'I tried to tell her that your name was De Lané. You know, in this country, they say Delaney and she refused to believe me. '

'It would have been impossible in any case. I was just as stubborn as my father and refused to use the family name. Professionally, I adopted the name Jardinière.'

'Jardiniere?'

'Yes. My mother was from Ireland. It is the French version of her name, Gardener.


	6. Chapter 6

Blunt Thou the Lion's Paw

Hélène and Philippe returned from their commemorative two-day sojourn in Quebec City. After the surreal moments spent in the heart of the old city, Montreal was drab and uninspiring. The dull rainy day fit the cloud of depression which seemed to hang over their heads. The atmosphere was essential in buffering the harsh realities surrounding the loss of their daughter, compounded by the years of separation between them. A trip to the cemetery in Montreal, which contained the simple memorial in honour of Madeleine, brought a resurgence of tears. Unlike other times and in other years, Hélène was able to feel the supportive love of her child's natural father, for the first time.

In the hours following their visit to the cemetery, Hélène's ongoing silence signalled that there were other personal matters she wanted to discuss with the saddened father. In two minds about it whether it was the right move, she nonetheless asked him to come to the house, just once more.

In deference to Hélène's grief, Philippe had not asked about photos. He wasn't sure that he even wanted a visible memory of someone who he had not known in life, especially under the circumstances. Hélène didn't indicate that she even had photos. Philippe felt he could decline any objects which would prolong his grief and yet, a couple of hours before his planned departure, he made one last visit to the home of his friend. She invited him in with a sombre face. In her heart and well beyond the moment shared, lay the very real knowledge that he was leaving. Hélène experienced some of the same anxiety which determined the course of her life so many years ago.

'I will miss you Philippe. Your visit has given me hope and closure in a way I never thought possible even a week ago,' she whispered, emotion making her voice husky.

He appeared to struggle for words, unsure of the feeling percolating beneath his skin.

'Hélène, will you come and visit me in California?' Philippe never knew what prompted him to make the offer. Only a small part of him hated letting go, but he sensed within, a need for more.

'Why?' she responded with a tilt of the head.

'Because I love you and wish to see you again. This time has not been enough to process all of ...' A typical French hand gesture completed the sentence. The meaning was clear. His love was tempered by the reality of who he was but their shared history was an unshakeable bond. Hélène took a deep breath in, wishing with all her heart that she could really get away for awhile.

'Will Vladimir mind? What will we do that we haven't done here? Where will I stay? How will I find the money?' Anxiety and hope made her ramble on with questions. Philippe stood in front of her and held her face between his hands.

'Hélène, please stop. You will come to visit with me. Vladimir will love you too. I have lived in the shadow of his former wife Sandy for years. As long as we have no secrets from each other he is as accepting as I have been.'

The weary woman knew that she was more afraid of change, experiencing the impossible, then giving it up again. She turned away. Rejection trembled on the tip of her tongue.

'I have the most challenging protégé who struggles with finding the right rhythm for her music. Her presentation is horrible. She could learn much from you.' A teasing smile accompanied the words.

'They all want to be rock stars, eh? ' The response was exactly what Philippe hoped. 'You know how to get me going,' she laughed pushing him away.

Hélène had spent years coaching, and tutoring music students to supplement her husband's meagre income. Guy would not let his wife work in her chosen vocation. He had no appreciation of her musical talent and cared little about her desire to sing professionally. He pushed her to take a union job in a factory, thinking only of the security. Hélène balked at that, deciding that she would work independently, taking in students when he was not at home. It was the only time she defied her husband.

'Don't decide in this moment, but decide soon. I have to get back to my work. There is still so much we need to talk about.' Philippe pulled away and went to a window, looking down the street in a westerly direction, feeling, in the distance, the pull of his home. ' I can't absorb everything in this short time. I must confess to feeling overwhelmed although this is nothing, I think, to what you have experienced. Bear with me a little longer.' Philippe turned and smiled. His lovely eyes were bright with sadness.

'I will. And now, I want to get something for you.'

Hélène excused herself and went down the short hallway. She returned holding a wooden box. The size was slightly smaller than a shoe box. It was decorated with childish pictures on the outside, hand drawn mostly. The top was closed and sealed with a small lock. A pretty ribbon encircled the middle with the key to the lock hidden in its folds. She handed it to Philippe.

'This belonged to Madeleine. It was her treasure box when she was growing up. She left it behind when she ran away. I put the things from the fire into a small box inside. Take it home with you and get to know her if you wish. I will come to California to collect it.'

'Bless you, my dearest friend. Make it soon. Call me when you are ready and I will make arrangements.'

* * *

'What is this Jacob?'

'A few herbs soaked in a bit of alcohol. The taste is quite pleasant. The herbs were sweet.'

'And you are saying this will help me?'

'Yes.' Jacob was tentative. He had made a concoction for Edgar Raeburn and a few things for the women below but this was his first experience with his mother's type of complaint.

'You know son, I don't want to lose everything I've been feeling.'

'I checked out a lot combinations. I thought this was best.'

Catherine nodded accepting his efforts. 'I want balance. Those hot flashes have some good and bad points.'

Jacob didn't comment but he held himself calm and steady. He was surprised to find that he was feeling more than a little self-conscious.

Catherine continued slowly, trying to get a sense of what she was feeling. 'My body has been lost to me for so long. I can't believe the very real disconnect that has plagued me since my awakening in California. These days, when that heat rises in me, I admit that I am embarrassed to be caught red faced but I feel the power of '_me', _rise in a way it has never done before.' Catherine's hand gestures spoke volumes.

'I understand Mama but Cathy gave me the impression that you were not happy with the way things are.'

'She saw me at my worst the other day. When we were to meet with Susana Palermo to discuss the possibility of Cathy joining the Governor's committee she cancelled at the last minute. I was furious. I wanted to ... well, I wasn't nice to someone who didn't deserve my anger. Then I have been sharp with everyone around here lately. I need to get that under control.'

'Try this. I can't make any promises but update me on any changes you feel. It is adjustable.'

'I will. I trust you.'

'Mama, you mentioned Susana Palermo. I've heard that name before. What does she do?'

'Howie told me that she heads this committee he asked me to join. I wanted to discuss the possibility of getting Cathy's input. We have to understand the needs of the community so that the committee can work more efficiently. We didn't get to actually speak with her.'

'Her husband is a business man in the city.'

'Legitimate?'

Jacob didn't answer. Catherine didn't need to know more. "I see,' she responded.

'Just be careful Mama. I hope you will approach this like a New York socialite, which is safer. I am sure you have investigated cases like this but you are not a prosecutor now.'

'Are you suggesting that I work undercover?'

'No I would be happy if you just work on a committee for the greater good being just yourself. I know that won't happen.' Jacob paused biting his lower lip before speaking again. 'The Governor is worried isn't he?'

Catherine, in turn, didn't answer. She and her son clearly had an understanding. Jacob knew that he and his father, along with Rob would keep a watchful eye on her. No need to stifle her natural interest in justice. He just didn't want either his wife or his mother to be caught up in the middle of illegal activities which would put them in harm's way. Jacob remembered that he needed to make a call. He leaned over to kiss his mother before bounding upstairs.

Catherine sighed and removed the dropper from the bottle. She lifted her tongue to place a few drops underneath in the way Jacob suggested. The taste was indeed sweet. The alcohol content spread throughout her body as if every pore was crying for the compound. She sat back and smiled.

* * *

Jacob was still busy with his work when Cathy came home. He made the decision to push himself and finish the studies which had been put on hold. He found it so easy to be distracted by the demands of his job and family but the experience with Virgil, long since resolved, stimulated urgency in him now. The sealed page in Pater's book had contained a symbol not unknown to the young man. Looking at its lines opened channels in his brain, allowing unused wave patterns to give him access to his guides. Real energy flowed through his body putting him on a higher plane when he was focused on the symbols.

Over the past weeks he felt stronger, more aware of his abilities. It was a frightening power which he needed to harness. Even as he heard Cathy open the front door, if he focused on a mental vision of her, every movement she made was a living moving picture inside his head. Jacob didn't know if that kind of ability was something he wanted invading every moment of his life. Still, any sight of his wife generated only feelings of love. Part of his concern stemmed from the feeling that it was almost like an invasion of her privacy, although the issue had been discussed between them before.

Removing her vision from his consciousness, he tried instead to move it to another being. He thought of a few people he didn't know well and attempted to focus on their energy. The vision wasn't the same. Clearly, the relationship established between him and his wife made a significant difference. Jacob relaxed, a smile on his face, as the object of his thoughts entered the study.

'Whatcha doin?'

Jacob turned in the chair and held out his arms to receive his wife's embrace. 'Waiting for you to walk into my life.'

'That's a line in a song.'

'Well, it's original to me.'

'The strange thing is that I believe you.' Cathy glanced at the desk, littered with books and papers. 'Anything interesting in the 'other world' of your life?'

Jacob didn't answer right away. He stood up abruptly. 'Let's get out of here. I need to walk.'

She could see that her husband was not troubled. Walking together had always allowed them to talk and share ideas in a different way. Cathy had been out all day but acquiesced to his wishes because she was curious and could not resist the boyish pleading in his eyes. She first changed into a more comfortable outfit and flat shoes. Likely their walk would end in a meal at some local restaurant. Hand in hand they made their way across the park towards their favourite tree, stopping for a brief hug and kiss before moving over to the path leading north.

'Are you worried Jacob? You don't seem like you are, but I feel something different in you.'

'Come here Cathy. Watch this,' he said walking quickly off the path into a grove of trees.

Jacob stood under a tree , slightly away from the main branches. He crouched down and with a mighty push upward, he was in the tree before Cathy could draw a breath.

'Oh my God! What the hell was that?'

Jacob landed back on the ground with a soft thud. 'Cathy, I have known for awhile that I can jump higher and run faster than the best Olympian. After all, my father can do these things too but not quite like this.'

'Are you like superman?' Cathy's eyes were wide open.

Jacob should have been able to answer right away but he gave some real thought to the gifts of the legendary comic book hero. Most troubling in his mind was the ability to see, not with the x-ray vision of the character but with visual precision of each action. Accessing the past was effortless. He had been dreaming his way through events for years. Real time visioning was new.

'No Cathy, I don't believe I will ever be able to fly.'

'I am not joking Jacob. What else can you do?'

'I'm not joking either but I realized today that if I bring you to mind, I can see you immediately.'

`I always knew that Jacob. I have seen you do that with your Dad.`

`No, with him I hear his heart beat and follow it much like a sonar beam. With you, I can see your actual movement.`

CAthy gave some thought to what he said. She looked at him with a questioning frown on her face. `So I`ll never be alone like I was with Virgil?'

'You will never be alone again.' Jacob's tone was firm and full of relief. 'I just need to know if you would be ok with that and alos how you can open that channel in me.'

'What do you want me to do?'

'I'm not sure. Everything is so new to me. I told you about accessing Mama and Dad. That I understand. We share DNA and although I can fly energetically on strands of DNA, I can only do it with people related to me by blood.'

'And me?'

'I love you. We love each other. There is an internal sensory perception which binds us but it needs a vehicle. I want you to walk away from me and try different emotions, I'll know in seconds which one connects us in a way that allows me to see you.'

Jacob and Cathy walked away from each other like two duellists in the long deadly stride before the shot. Cathy was hard pressed not to laugh. Two adults walking away from each other in the park wasn't really such a strange sight when she thought about it. Drawing on her life experiences, she ran through a range of emotions. Jacob didn't call her back or shout out. Puzzled she stopped and brought a vision of him to mind. She looked down at the ring, he had given her.

'That's it KitCat!'

Clearly their bond, cemented by the ring was all about love but it had to be tempered with tenderness. 'Wait Jacob,' she shouted into the dark. I want to try something else. He turned from her again and waited. Instead of the vague outline of her in the dark recesses of his mind, he now saw shimmering lines and absolute clarity in her features.

'Now I see what I saw before.'

'I was singing when I came home.'

'Your voice and the way you use it will always be my guide. The pathway is audio, but different from my parents. Let's get something to eat and I'll tell you what else I can access.'

The young couple headed out of the park, walking towards a busy area, where some restaurants were open. They chose an establishment serving typical American food but scoped out the seating and exits before sitting down side by side in a booth. Jacob went on to describe his burgeoning power while waiting for their meal. Cathy listened carefully, commenting when necessary, but she had one thing on her mind.

'What do you feel when we make love Jacob?'

'Only the deepest most passionate love which fills my being with the greatest joy.'

'You have a way with words!'

Jacob grinned sharing his most engaging smile. In that moment he saw the connection and the lines which bound him to his wife. They fell silent. The appearance of the food kept them busy for quite awhile. Cathy became aware that Jacob's toes were tapping under the table.

'Not like you to be moving in perfect time with music.'

'I like what's playing. It's music I can understand. What is it or do you know?'

'It's a blend of old and new. The songs are from the 30's through the 50's but the performance is new. Rod Stewart calls this album The Great American Songbook. I think it's the most recent one.'

'Cathy you know so much about music. Why didn't you pursue it?'

'Mummy didn't sing except one or two songs. Frederick fooled around in the theatre world a lot. He loved musicals but anything that interested him did not interest me. I kept my stuff secret but I admit that when I sang at Terry's wedding it brought back a childhood dream. For a moment I felt like I did at my one and only high school performance. 'For a moment...I...' She felt tears threatening and stopped short.

'It's ok KitCat. If you only ever sing for me, it will be enough, unless you want more.'

She gave his hand a tight squeeze under the table. 'I'd love to dance to this music with you someday. I think you might be better at this than the waltz.'

Jacob raised an eyebrow but didn't comment further. He could not however, hold back the smile which sparkled in his eyes.

* * *

Phillipe refused to let go of the box containing his daughter's treasures. He hoped that airport security would not feel compelled to make him open it but if there was nothing threatening inside it should be fine. The US customs and security was located at the international airport in Canada. The officer was surprisingly understanding when Philippe related the story of its contents. The unsmiling customs agent softened somewhat upon hearing the story and Philippe's reluctance to open the box on the spot. Nothing untoward was seen on the x-ray and the box was passed through without incident.

Philippe clutched the box throughout the flight, staring, from time to time, at the handmade designs and tracing their outlines with his fingers. He didn't feel comforted. Instead his mind played with his own childhood memories, thinking of a similar treasure trove which he crafted as a child. That box had been left at home when he travelled to Canada. He never saw it again. His father's rejection was complete. All his belongings were confiscated.

Unsmiling, Philippe made his way to the exit gate, expecting to drive home alone. Instead, the sombre face of his life partner waited for him on the other side of the barrier. The two men shared a hug. Words were superfluous.

'Jason dropped me off. I didn't know if you would want company but I won't talk if you don't want me too.'

'Not yet Vlad. I am happy for your presence but I am left speechless by this new knowledge. I wonder where I will find the courage to forgive myself.'

Vladimir knew better than to offer false platitudes in the face of real pain. He steered the car out of LAX and headed home. His silent partner remained so throughout the drive, clutching a box which clearly held a lifeline to something important.


	7. Chapter 7

Blunt VII

Catherine entered the condominium building. She wasn't as fiery as she had been in the past weeks, but her blood was on a low boil. She hated snobs. When Susana Palermo asked to see her privately she knew it was to vet Cathy's suitability and perhaps even Catherine's right to be part of the group. Her request was accompanied by insincere sounding apologies for having to break their previous engagement. Catherine's responding tone was as forgiving as possible. She was too astute to get on a high horse and risk alienating the 'power' position. She was prepared to be magnanimous.

Rob trailed behind his employer, seeing in her confident footsteps, a different woman than the invalid he encountered years ago in California. Catherine would have instructed him to wait in the van but Vincent would not allow his wife to venture out alone just yet. He insisted on the door to door escort, and said so within earshot of the driver. Rob was left in no doubt whose instructions he had to follow. Unbeknown to either husband and wife, Jacob had long since warned him that any time Catherine was in the company of Susana Palermo, he was to stay close.

The elegant Manhattan condominium was known to Rob. He had dropped off Jacob and Cathy there. He didn't feel it was a coincidence that people who worked on the fringes of the law would have the same address. 'Birds of a feather' he muttered under his breath.

Catherine was purposeful. She announced her name to the security guard and waited.

'Who's this guy?'

'My Security, Rob.'

'Gun?' Rob hesitated. 'Alarm will go off if you're packin'.'

'No. I don't carry.'

The pair were escorted to the elevator and made the silent ride up to the first level. The door opened into a lush apartment. Catherine, who was not unused to luxury felt her breath taken away. Rather than an understated elegance, the place seemed pretentious. Gold glittered everywhere. Catherine smiled at paper thin platinum blonde who came forward with a limp outstretched hand.

'Catherine, welcome. Your man will find a room around the corner where he can wait for you. Come in. Come in. I am so happy to have this chance to share some alone time with you. I get so tired of all that brouhaha in those committee meetings. This is so much better, isn't it?'

If the guest hoped to say anything at all, she wondered when. The hostess rambled on endlessly all the while dragging Catherine into an area which seemed like a woman's sitting room. A small table near a window overlooking the city was set for a luncheon but Susana first invited her to be seated on a small settee. She offered Catherine a drink, waving her hand at some unseen server. Catherine was able to draw a complete breath for the first time since she left the truck. The fixed smile held.

'So Catherine, how is it that you know the Governor?'

Catherine was very certain that Susana had already sent out feelers for the answer, but she was prepared to be honest and test her hostess' sources. 'He was an intern in my father's law firm some years ago.'

Apparently, whoever provided the information did not check deep enough. Her hostess was surprised. The pencilled eyebrows elevated just slightly.

'You have quite a history it seems, both with the governor and of course personally.'

'Indeed I do. I am infinitely lucky to be alive and reunited with my husband and child.' Catherine's face continued to portray an open and honest countenance. Her eyes never wavered.

A young man in a uniform brought an iced concoction. Catherine took a sip of hers. Susana drank nothing. She crossed and uncrossed her legs all the while continuing to smile while waving the glass around idly. Her cheerful sociable demeanour was clearly becoming forced. She motioned then moved towards the small window table and invited Catherine to be seated. Without saying a word, the same young man brought a small salad. Catherine easily picked up silent communication between Susana and her employee. She had not lived with the sensitivity of Vincent and Jacob without knowing when increased energy was exchanged between two people.

'Your daughter in law is quite accomplished. It is important of course that she have the right backing to participate in these community committees. There are some very distinguished people who are members. We have to be careful of course.'

'Of what?' Catherine's smile remained fixed. She allowed a piece of lettuce to enter her mouth despite feeling nausea born out of disgust.

'Just that the knowledge she brings, is...uh... fair to other members.'

'I am sure that won't be a problem. She is grounded, knowledgeable, well educated and willing to work for the good of the women mandated in the committee's governance.'

Susana frowned. The young man appeared at her side immediately and removed the plates. Susanna had eaten nothing. A second plate soon arrived. It appeared to be some type of shrimp and avocado delicacy. Catherine did her best to eat. Susana picked.

'Catherine, I have to ask these questions. I hope you don't mind. Each of us brings a certain resumé of skills and contacts to the committee.'

'Really, I thought Howard asked people to join because they were philanthropic.'

'Well, yes but he **knows **us.'

The emphasis on 'knows' rankled. 'He knows me. I have **known** my daughter in law since the day she was born. She is also my namesake and... my Goddaughter.'

Susana may have been a snob but she also knew when to back off. Catherine's tone took on a new dimension. 'I hope you are enjoying the meal?' she added sidetracking from the issue.

'It's quite delicious. Is your chef Swedish?'

'He is. How did you know?'

'The style, preparation and placement of the food. Their presentation is quite unique.'

Susana seemed slightly deflated. The eyes following the young man, who finally brought the coffee to end the meal, were naked with desire. Catherine was disgusted. More than once she wondered if Howie was making decisions without the astute awareness she had observed in him from early on.

Catherine couldn't wait to leave. She pleaded a prior engagement and did not linger after the lunch.

'I am sure we will welcome your Daughter in law to our group Catherine. As you know I am quite busy and unable to be there often but you can always call me if there's any other concerns.'

Since Catherine did not have any concerns at the outset she ended on the pointed note 'and, I am fairly certain there won't be anything further.'

Back in the van, Catherine instructed Rob to leave open the window. She was desperately in need of fresh air. Over the sound of the air flow, she asked Rob the one thing which had puzzled her. 'Didn't you bring your gun Rob? I thought you never left home without it?'

'I have it. I always will. I don't know why people hire incompetent people to do jobs which require attention to detail. That young man couldn't save himself if he had to fight his way out of a wet paper bag.' It was Rob's longest personal opinion in awhile. Catherine chuckled and relaxed. She knew then that she was well taken care of.

* * *

California

'Your Father called me today Jay.'

'What's up?'

'He's worried about Philippe. I don't know what to say.'

'You?'

Terry shook a fist in the direction of her husband's smirk. 'This is different.'

'Come on Terry. You've known for years that Phil has suffered with depression. Ever since he came back from Montreal he's been unable to function. Dad has never seen him this low.' Jason's worry communicated itself to his wife. 'This is your area of expertise.'

'Yeah, well as much as I love the two of them, they have never invited me into the intimacy of their lives. It feels a little weird to be honest.'

'What do you mean?'

'I don't mean their intimacy as men together Jason. I mean, this a parent kind of thing. Parents are kind of hands off.'

Jason and Terry were seated around the breakfast table at their home. After their marriage, they moved out of Jason's apartment, sold it quickly, rented out Terry's condo and bought a home just outside of the city. Terry had loved the drive up to the hills and the breathtaking scenery when she had been working with Catherine. The couple found a lovely three bedroom bungalow, within a reasonable drive from their respective work places and settled in. Young Laddie sat at the table playing with his cereal watching his parents discuss things he didn't understand.

'Well, I don't know what to do. Dad has also told me how worried he is. Did he tell you about the child?'

'Yes. That's such a sad story. I wonder how many times that has been played out in Phil's mind?' Terry paused watching her husband's face. His concern communicated itself to her and she relented. ' I am willing to talk with him but he has to be willing to talk to me also.'

'Call him today, please Babe.'

'I can never refuse you. You know that.'

After Jason left for work, Terry picked up the phone and put it down just as quickly. Requesting a meeting would do no good. He'd probably just say no. She wondered how to approach Philippe. As soon as the nanny arrived to take Laddie to his day school, she quickly dressed and headed towards the home which the two men shared.

Philippe opened the door wearily. His careless dress and attitude spoke volumes. Here was a man in deep emotional trouble. The chin stubble and dark circles were the best indicator of his state of mind. Both gave him a 'racoon-ish' appearance although the analogy could not be further from the truth. Philippe had lost more than he gained. 'Have you come to rescue me?' he muttered without a smile of welcome.

'By the look of you, it would take more than what I have to offer.'

Philippe was clearly taken aback by the tone. Terry didn't mince words. He knew she was capable of being blunt but he also knew she had a kind and giving heart. He wasn't sure which he wanted at that moment. His self-hate didn't allow any room for kindness and yet as Terry looked up into the sad eyes her heart melted.

She followed him into his music room. The large piano sat near the window. Philippe stood and looked out at the scenery. In fact he was hiding the tears which filled his eyes.

'Phil, you can trust me you know.'

'Oui, je sais, ma belle fille.'

Terry got up and went to wrap her arms around the man who brought such beautiful music and culture into her life. He had not turned around and she rested her head against his back, feeling his sobs. How long they stood together she didn't know but she was determined to hold him until he pushed her away. Eventually he turned and gathered her into his arms.

'You know and understand grief, Terry. The people you have lost in your life...it is so painful to contemplate.'

'Yes but this is not about me Phil. It's about you. I am willing to listen. Those of us who love you are ready to help you through this.'

Philippe put her away from him then. He invited her to sit. After a while he spoke softly about the events of his trip, including the past experience of his father's rejection which contributed to the long history of his depression.

'You know, I always thought you were French-Canadian.'

'It was easier to portray that than to remember my mother and siblings as I had last seen them.'

What will you do now Phil? Has Hélène said whether she will come or not?'

'Before she comes there is something I must do.' At her questioning glance, he said, 'I must open the box.'

'If you want to, I'll stay here and be with you.'

Philippe grabbed her hand. 'I think I am afraid to love her in death when I could not in life. You are here, the closest I will ever have to a daughter. Do you think she will mind if I share her with you?' Terry remembered the day that she tried on the wedding dress which Erin had made and what she had said when Erin burst into tears. In this tender moment with Phil, she could again be a surrogate for the deceased daughter.

Philippe retrieved the box from his bedroom and placed it on a low table. Soft music played in the background. His hands trembled. Terry took the small key from the fold of the ribbon and unlocked the flap. She returned key and lock to the ribbon for safety and invited Philippe to open the lid. He did so with some trepidation.

Inside flattened sheets of paper filled all but one corner. The top sheet greeted his weary eyes with a childish scrawl.

_My name is Madie_. Philippe traced each line of the words with his finger. The sobs returned. It was heartbreaking to hear and see. He handed the top sheet to Terry and quickly scanned each one in order. Hélène had lined them up year by year, allowing him to watch her childish handwriting grow into a teenager, until the child's innocence was halted by Guy's sexual intrusion into her life. By age thirteen, Madie had become Madeleine. She was dreaming about going to Spain and marrying the handsome prince of her fantasies. She would be Princess Madalena wearing a beautiful gown, a golden crown perched atop her head.

Philippe laughed at her fanciful dreams but they were in keeping with Hélène's description of their daughter's character. What he knew is that if she had been born and raised as his legitimate daughter, she would have grown up in the castle he once called home. There would be lots of time for regret about all things lost. For the moment, he was lost in her delightful childhood.

The small box containing her last known effects stood in a corner. Philippe drew it out and removed the lid. The blackened jewellery inside had never been cleaned. The heart shaped gold pendant seemed to come to life in his hands. He replaced it carefully in the box not ready for any energy which could still be contained in its lines.

At the bottom, were the very things which Philippe had dreaded more than anything. 'Ma belle fille, please, look for me. Tell me of her loveliness.'

Terry drew the last papers out of the box and stared at the first faded photo of his deceased daughter. Her gasp could not be held back.

'What is it?'

'Oh my God Phil! She is exquisite!' Terry stared at the photo for so long. It was a face she had seen before but could not place the resemblance. She took out others of Madeleine taken at various ages. Perhaps it was just because her natural father sat at her side. Perhaps the child was merely a young replica of her father. Terry didn't know why but she felt such an abundance of love. It was not just for the lost child but also for the man who gave her life. That he should miss the joy of raising her to become the woman whose potential was inherent in the childish dreams seemed a shame.

Terry kneeled on the couch and wrapped her arms around her father in law. She handed him the photo of his child. His wonderment was a joy to watch. Terry let go of him when it was clear that he could cope.

'Mon Dieu! She exactly resembles my mother! She was truly my child.

* * *

New York City

You know Holly, we could get an office and meet there.'

I really like these lunch meetings. The atmosphere is so relaxed. I am already getting stressed by this pregnancy although I know everything is fine.'

'I see you have stopped wearing your wig.'

'I get so hot. Brian is fine with me uncovering my hair. It was really my father who insisted. Since Virgil is in jail and no one else is coming for me, I feel safe enough to cover it with a scarf or hat.'

'I never really understood what that was about. Is it something you can share with me?'

'You know that our Diosa culture is a combination of so many religious doctrines. There are several in which the women are not allowed to uncover their 'glory' including Judaism but my golden hair made me stick out like a sore thumb in India. So it was partly to protect me and partly to maintain the Diosa culture.'

'I don't think I ever asked if you were born there or here?'

'Here really, but my Dad didn't want it to be known. He took me back as soon as I could travel.'

'I don't mean to pry but as we get closer and talk more, it is easier to understand this bond we share as well as each other.'

'Oh Cathy, you have been a wonderful friend. Especially in view of the relationship you had with Brian. I don't want to have any secrets from you. When I don't share, it's because I don't know. For example, everything about my mother is lost to me. Dad kind of told me early that she died at my birth and I wasn't to ask any more questions about her.'

'That's hard.'

'Not if you knew him before his conversion. He was a manipulative tyrant.'

'Ouch!'

'Don't worry. I had lots of reasons to defy him every single day of my life and that's why I am so grateful to Jacob for the conversion. Now, he's become a man I can really love but he is even less accessible to me than he was before.'

'Brian was very much like that too. He has changed a lot Holly.'

'I hadn't even thought of that but I never knew him before. I'm glad that I'll only know him like he is now.'

'Both of us have had strange lives,' Cathy mused, thinking about what a conversion really meant.

The two women fell silent for awhile. Before their late afternoon meal, they had been together at the new location. They both did a walk through to ensure that the facility had all the necessary safeguards. There would be no grand opening, just increased activity between the cubby hole in the park and the new facility. Cathy put that out of her mind as she sat in contemplation of what they had achieved in record time. She was confident that there would be problems, but not insurmountable ones. After all, she had done this before without Holly's generous support.

She turned her mental attention to Jacob and his amazing ability to create change. Cathy had questions for her husband.

* * *

Vincent and Catherine sat cuddled together in their favourite chair. She wanted to talk. He did not. With incredible restraint, she held her tongue. Vincent had been struggling with some drainage problems below. As soon as one area was secure, another opened. The excess rain had found its way through closed passages, flooding some of the lower chambers. Mouse was really the only engineer below but some of the more vigorous floods were beyond his skill. Vincent would have to seek outside help. The challenge was always about security.

'I hear a lot of music upstairs. What are they doing?' he asked idly, stroking his wife's arm.

'Learning to dance. Jacob has found music which fills his heart. Apparently he can follow the beat quite easily and Cathy is teaching him to apply it to music.'

Vincent sighed, feeling Catherine's urgency. 'Did you find anything to fill your heart today Catherine?'

It might have been a perfect moment to ramble on about Susana, her snobbish ways and her apparent lack of interest in anything except the young man who waited on her hand and foot, but Catherine set those thoughts aside. Cuddling closer to her weary husband she responded, 'only this moment with you fills my heart right now.'

Grateful for her understanding ways, held his wife tightly saying nothing further, well into the darkening night.

Upstairs, Jacob seemed to have mastered the last of his steps. They ran through the song one more time before Cathy called a halt. She still had questions. In her single minded way she was determined to get answers but she waited until silence had fallen in the house and they could talk together in the hushed whispers which she loved.

'Jacob, when you do conversions with people, what exactly does that mean?'

'Is this about me invading your mind? I told you I would never do that Cathy.'

'Don't be upset. I just wondered what it means. Is it like hypnosis?'

Jacob leaned back in bed, staring at the celing. 'In an adversarial role, as I was with Kardin, Brian and others, I need to first of all protect myself from a negative energy which they direct towards me. Then to diffuse their energy, I send out a positive light. I am looking for an open hole in their aura. If my motives are true and right, I am able to neutralize the negative and allow the energy dialogue to effect a conversion as it enters their bodies as truth and light. Sometimes I have to find pathways of the nerve fibres which are criss crossed as I did with Brian. That's slightly different.'

'OK, that makes sense to me. I know your motives are pure. But can someone who is a negative person control another's thought and memory?'

'Yes, if they are vulnerable. You spent time with Holly today. Is there something that worries you?'

'You see...that's what I mean. How did you figure that out?'

'It's a simple 2 + 2. I am a lawyer Cathy and investigations and deductions are programmed into our work.'

'Of course...I'm sorry. There is something about Holly which puzzles me. When she talks about her mother, it's as if her mind is programmed to repeat a particular answer. She says it in the same type of voice all the time and very nearly the same words.'

'Sounds like post hypnotic suggestion. Her father was quite capable of that kind of mind manipulation.'

'That's what she said.'

'Seems like some of that old black magic.'

'You can't tell me that you didn't know that's not original?'

'I knew. I also have some icy fingers to run up and down your spine.'

'Oh Jacob,' she laughed turning into his arms. Their conversation was ended but not forgotten. Cathy had a trail of her own she wished to pursue.


	8. Chapter 8

Terry's visit paved the way for Philippe to return to his office. He was feeling much better than he had for a long time but, periods of melancholy continued to punctuate parts of his day. He resumed his work with Den and the young protégé who still struggled with finding just the right beat for her music. His excellent ear could clearly pick up where she needed help. The musician in him did not want to lose her and the producer in him did not want to release her to a less scrupulous studio. Several meetings with her manager and agent did not result in much improvement but Philippe found a new patience in his grief. If his daughter had been as talented as the young girl now in his charge, he wondered if he would have been able to guide her into a career. He kept exasperation to a minimum seeing a chance to again use a surrogate to compensate for his perceived failure as a father. That he didn't know about Madeleine was not an excuse and failed to ease his conscience or his heart ache one bit.

Also frequently on his mind was Hélène, who finally initiated contact.

'Has your protégé improved?' she had asked.'

Philippe offered a very blunt 'no!' in response.

'I thought I might come and help.' she had offered in her tentative way. She would never have expressed it as a desire to come out and visit. Philippe was thrilled and excited at the prospect but kept up the facade of 'help' being the primary focus. A ticket was quickly dispatched to her doorstep while Philippe discussed the arrangements with his partner.

'Are you worried about this at all Vlad?'

Rather than offer a quick '_no'_ which would have meant very little considering the importance, the former police detective appeared to give deep thought to the question. It was the first time during their thirty year relationship in which a woman, other than Terry and Sandy, would enter their lives. She wasn't just any woman. She was the mother of his child and the only woman with whom Philippe had shared intimacy. She certainly held a special place in his life. Vladimir was not inclined to jealousy. Trust was a big part of their relationship. The question did allow him to pause and think about how his mate had graciously created a place in their lives for Sandy to share in Jason's teen years, marriage and the baby. Philippe had always been the soul of discretion and understanding.

'I hope she is going to stay here with us. I want to listen to her stories of your university days and all those concerts where you played sissy music instead of good old rock and roll.'

'I see. Sissy music eh?'

The banter and competitiveness which followed, paved the way for a less maudlin discussion until Vladimir gave up in mock surrender. He reluctantly acknowledged being beaten down by the superior musical talent of his partner. 'If she is more down to earth than you, I will welcome her common sense approach to life, in this house.'

'Thanks Vlad.' Philippe knew exactly what tactics his partner had used to chase away the concerns. He still did not anticipate that it would be easy. Indeed he expected some moments of awkwardness but was prepared to end the visit at any time if his relationship became strained. He hoped Hélène would understand.

Philippe had not gone into Madeleine's treasure box since the visit with Terry. Hélène's impending visit, forced him to get to know his daughter a little better. Taking each page, and reading the simple words over and over allowed him to see her in a new way. There were periods of her life which he would like to explore with her mother.

* * *

Catherine attended her second meeting of the committee much better armed than she had been the first time. All the papers that the Governor had given her, amounted to nothing. The normal workings of a mandated group were not observed. A great deal of money changed hands but there was no serious, detailed accounting of the comings and goings of the donations. She wondered how serious they were about legitimate 'helping'.

Susana did not attend although two other people on the list unexpectedly arrived shortly after Catherine and Cathy. Introductions took up a great deal of time. It was not the chair who called a halt to the idle chatter but Catherine who had enough time wasting activity.

'We should be working on plans for the coming year. It's almost November and I don't see any ideas for fund raising that would generate income,' she offered.

'Oh don't worry. We have generous regular donors who contribute their money with very little encouragement.'

'I also don't see a list of those contributors nor any indication of the amounts received,' Catherine continued, looking at the papers in front of her.

'Our Accountant handles all of that.'

'Are we not interested in how much money comes in and when and where it goes out?' Adopting an innocently puzzled look, she let her eyes scan the members at the table.

'Were we supposed to be?' one member asked.

'Susana said we just need to meet on a regular basis and she would take care of the details,' another interjected.

Catherine ignored Susana and recited the facts. 'Registered charities have to account to the IRS for their donations and their expenses.'

'Susana knows we're busy people with lots of other things to attend to. Really Catherine, don't you have a busy life?'

'I do and so does my daughter in law. We both felt a responsibility to be more aware of communities in need beyond those activities which we currently support. Our intention was to expand our involvement through this committee. We hoped to bring in other donors who would be willing to add their financial resources to these ventures and expand them into really useful resources, for young people in particular. At least I got the impression from the Governor that he wanted me to be involved.'

Catherine's comment silenced the group.

'You seem to be quite serious about this. I think we have been playing at being philanthropists.' The lone male looked around the room at the small group of people and suddenly felt ashamed. Most of them had been beguiled into thinking they were busy just by showing up and mouthing platitudes.' He looked at Cathy. 'I understand from Catherine that you have had some experience working with disadvantaged women in the community. Can you tell us about it?

Cathy, who admired the way her mother in law handled everyone without getting upset,went on to explain in detail, some of the issues which prompted her to become involved. She did not make it personal but talked from the perspective of a social worker. She concluded with a pointed question. 'Why is it that we don't know what's going on in this group. Don't we have any obligation to do something beyond meeting and talking?'

'Yes we do and if we fail to meet the standards in all areas we can allow unscrupulous donors to use this as an easy tax write off.' Catherine spoke up since no one else had an obvious answer.

'Is that illegal?'

'It is if we can't account for the money coming in and going out.'

There were a few murmurings before one of the newcomers asked, 'what do we need to do?'

'We need proper statements from the accountant. I would like to see who supports us. I would also like to see a plan of action for the coming year on how we are going to raise funds, both from regular donors and through other events which will allow for public sector participation.'

'Susana never told us we had to do that. She just asked us to support what she was doing?'

'Then she needs to be here. Everyone involved has to be held accountable.'

Catherine made her point. She didn't mind working undercover for her friend but only if he was willing to have higher expectations. It wasn't enough to sit back and expect someone of questionable character to lead a program to which you attached your name. If things didn't go well, not only his name but the office of the governor would be dragged down.

Walking down the corridor, out of earshot of the others, she voiced her concerns to her daughter in law.

'It's crazy to believe that Howie didn't know what was going on here. I just do not want to be in a position of playing watchdog if everyone is doing Susana's dirty work whether they are aware of it or not. Believe me Cathy, I have no doubt it is dirty work.'

'What are you thinking Mom?' she asked, loving this new scary side of Catherine.

'What I think is not important. It's what I can prove that matters.'

'For a minute, you sounded just like my old boss.'

'Yes, I like Kurt. I had a feeling that we would think alike.'

'Do you have something in mind?'

'I need information. It's impossible to see what pattern of activity is being shielded here without a knowledge of the people and corporations involved.' Catherine remained silent as they entered the elevator. She continued as the doors opened to Rob's serious countenance. 'Someone, who was there today, is going to report the entire conversation to Susana. She's going to initiate some kind of retaliation to get me out of the way but only if her husband is the sole provider of the funds coming into the charity. If he is not, she will welcome my help.'

'What can I do Mom?' Cathy was getting concerned. It sounded like trouble ahead.

'I'm not very good on the computer. You could look up her husband and see what he does. I'm sure much of the information will be inaccessible but we have to find a way. And, don't share any of this with Jacob. We may be getting into deep water. I think we may need help.'

'There is someone else...'

'Who?'

'Diana!'

* * *

Philippe stood at the airport gate waiting patiently for the plane to land. Despite feeling that the visit from Hélène was the right move, he also knew that deep down inside his life would never be the same. Where he had shied away from a full knowledge of Madeleine, his interest in her grew more than ever as he spent time studying her treasures. It was as if his soul cried out for her spirit to find him and forgive his absence from her life.

Shaken out of his reverie by an announcement, he watched Hélène walk towards him with purposeful strides. She was as lovely in middle age as she had been in her youth. The exuberance was gone from her face, replaced by the wear and tear of years of abuse and grief which rendered her helpless. And yet, she had talent and a dignity which distanced her from the very ordinary family in which she was born.

His open arms welcomed her to his adopted city. His smile welcomed her back into his life.

'Oh my. I didn't expect it to be so warm. We've already had some snowflakes back home.

'You will find none of that here, I promise you. Just warm sunshine and wonderful people who are excited to meet with you.'

Philippe guided her out to a sensible mid-sized car, designed to accommodate a larger family. Rather than heading straight back to the house, Philippe elected to drive around LA a bit pointing out places of interest along the way.

'We'll come back to visit anything you want to see,' Philippe had said as he made a turn for home. He felt her excitement communicate itself to him. Removing the sadness from her eyes even for a few moments, helped to relieve some of his own anxiety about the outcome of this trip. From the moment they shared that first hug at the airport, he asked quietly if they could have this day without discussion of their daughter.

'First and foremost, I wish for us to renew our relationship and be comfortable.'

Helane agreed. The effects of her dreary life in Montreal as a semi retired music teacher left her challenged every day. In order to keep from falling into deep depression she tried to see something of beauty in her students. Their eagerness to succeed kept her going when everything else seemed lost. She frequently had little to eat, minimal contact with her children and long bouts of anxiety brought on by fear of her former husband. She hoped the break from her routine would not spoil her for a return at the end of the holiday.

If Hélène wondered what her vacation would be like, it did not include the spectacular view from almost every corner of Philippe's house. Both the house and the view caused her to hold her breath. Shame washed over her when she thought of the grubby, smoke stained interior of her parent's home. Without it she would have had nowhere else to live. Its unappealing lifelessness failed to welcome anyone. She did not have any money beyond her meagre government pension and a few dollars from students. It was never enough to do more than pay a few bills. When Philippe sent her ticket, it included a large sum of money. She hadn't asked for any help since their trip to Quebec City but he could see how she lived and was grateful for his thoughtfulness.

Hélène didn't feel that Philippe owed her anything but she was grateful that she didn't have to ask. Another man had accepted responsibility for the care of their daughter and she was content to accept Guy's role as Madeleine's father until the day when Guy betrayed her trust. What a disservice she had done to the man who was guiding her into the most beautiful room she had ever seen. The damage she had done to her daughter couldn't be imagined.

'Philippe, this is to be my room?'

'As long as you are here. We have a housekeeper so don't feel that you have to do anything other than relax and be happy. Come on. Let me show you the rest of the house.'

A quick tour had her gasping with surprise. The hillside home had a spectacular view of the ocean. Windows everywhere added beautiful light throughout the day. The outdoor pool sparkled in the sun and flower gardens dotted the landscaped exterior.

'Are you rich now Philippe?' she asked wondering how she would measure up to his standards.

'No. I have been lucky. The music industry is a good source of income but I have also made a few investments which have paid off. Vladimir and I have learned to save so that we can enjoy the beauty of this house.' He stopped in the gardens and turned her to face him. 'Despite how this looks, my lifestyle is simple and I try to be careful with money. Whatever you need to be comfortable, you only need ask. I just want you to be happy again.'

Hélène hugged him tightly. The tears which had threatened for some time, fell easily. Philippe did not feel uncomfortable. He knew they were alone. His feelings were that of an old friend but he did not want to encourage this type of intimacy, which could easily be misunderstood. For the first day, he chose to be comforting and supportive.

By early evening, Vladimir returned. He spent the day busy and active with some of his numerous activities. Despite retiring at age sixty from active duty, the career policeman was heavily involved in organizations and associations which helped to support the police force and their families. The former 'rock and roller' practiced at least once a week with his small band which played at various events throughout the union calendar. Vladimir was deeply curious about the woman who had briefly engaged Philippe's heart. He meant every word of his vow to be respectful. Good relationships demanded complete honesty between couples.

By the end of the evening, Vladimir was completely bowled over. Hélène had not been what he expected. He imagined some blonde beauty of a much younger age, rather than the middle aged grandmother with silvery hair and delightful blue eyes surrounded by crow's feet. He was impressed with her quiet dignity and pleased when she offered a sweet smile as he bowed over her hand in welcome to his home.

'My Russian parents thought they might tame me by instilling the courtesies of their generation,' he added by way of explanation.

'I am a Francophone. Good manners always please us,' she responded graciously.

Philippe was satisfied by the easy camaraderie between them. The shared dinner hour was comforting. Hélène, who had started her day on another coast, retired early leaving the two men to talk freely.

* * *

Catherine sat and pondered the dilemma of Diana. She was well aware that the former police woman had harboured feelings for Vincent. Catherine loved her husband unconditionally. She could find no valid reason why other women shouldn't love him too, once they got to know him.

Diana Bennett-Maxwell had been instrumental in returning Jacob to his natural father and removing Gabriel from the landscape of the crime world. Vincent had often said that he was deeply indebted to her with thanks he could never repay. There was no overt hostility between them but each time Diana had come forward to help with cases, emotionally she held herself back. It was that action which made Catherine suspicious of her feelings toward Vincent. And yet, Catherine had cause to thank her over and over. At parties and other events Diana often held herself away as if she didn't want to socialize. Catherine had to admit that she never singled out the Senator's wife for a little chat time but it was a bridge that seemed insurmountable.

Not once since their return had she sought out a lunch date nor evening get together. She felt impotent. She realized that if she wanted to do her best, she would have to swallow her misgivings and call, not under any pretext of 'long time no hear' but 'I too need your help'.

She reluctantly picked up the receiver and dialled the number for the Long Island home Diana and Joe shared.

'Diana, hello. It's Catherine.'

'This is a surprise. Joe is not home. He's in Albany this week.'

The assumptions said a lot about Diana's own perceptions and only validated Catherine's fears of a distance between them.

'I am calling to speak with you.'

The silence was deafening.

'I wondered if we could get together. I am happy to drive out to Long Island if that works for you.'

'You don't have to,' she conceded at last. 'I don't mind coming into Manhattan.'

'The visit to Saugerties was the furthest I have travelled since California. I am trying to get out more. I'd love to come to you. I...I need your help, if you are willing.'

'I'll be home the day after tomorrow. How about lunch?'

Catherine rang off, wondering what made her so nervous about initiating this contact. They didn't have to be friends but Diana was an invaluable resource. Even as the thought crossed her mind, she wondered if perhaps her lack of interest in a detailed account of the missing months of her pregnancy and Jacob's capture had been avoided. It had never been discussed between the women. The omission was intentional. Catherine's distant past remained disconnected from her present. The bridge between the two was a blur. What she knew came from Vincent but much of it was left unexplored, mostly to ease her mind from re-experiencing the stress. Catherine had no idea why she distanced herself from the opportunity to cross that bridge. She was however committed to this meeting. Suddenly it felt momentous. She waited anxiously for her husband to come home. Catherine knew she had moved into the realm of her past work ethic with this burning desire to get at the truth. She didn't consider whether it would be finding the truth in her appointed role on the committee or some unacknowledged truth of her past.


	9. Chapter 9

Cathy woke with a sense of loss. It took a minute or two to realize that her mind was surprisingly blank. For weeks she had passed the night hours dreaming, seeing colourful hues weaving together like ribbons. Vague and incomplete images of people floated freely, seeming to carry her along for the ride. Undisturbed by the activity she still enjoyed her deepest sleep. For unknown reasons, over the previous two nights the visions had come to an abrupt end. She was disappointed remembering how the story of Arden and Knut* unfolded from a backdrop of green. Months of seeing varying verdant shades presaged a beautiful story. The dreamscape would later come to be identified as Ireland, the home of her ancestors.

The Celtic/Viking story had been Cathy's first real awakening to the powerful world of dreams. She was able to recall, in meticulous detail, a beautiful and unusual tale of love which was timeless in its beauty. Although the ending held an element of sadness, the power of its message, delivered safely in her simple dream state, rendered the story both moving and enlightening.

With a regretful sigh, Cathy turned over to gaze at the sleeping figure of her husband, only to find his remarkable blue eyes ready and eager to engage her own.

'I have been waiting for you.' The husky tone left no doubt as to what he was waiting for.

'Hmm…. I wonder if your mother ever feels like she can't initiate anything new because your father already thought of it first.'

Jacob chuckled. 'Probably! I've often heard Mama say that she can't have any thought without Dad knowing if it's good or bad.'

Cathy stared at Jacob. He never pressed her for information. He would just look and wait as if he already knew when she needed to talk.

A slight frown prompted him to ask, 'do you mind me looking at you? I'll stop if you want me to.'

'I don't think I really mind. I know that you love me. Sometimes, I would just like to stare at you for a change.'

'That's sweet, Baby, but I am up long before you, every day,' he added with pointed emphasis.

Cathy wondered if she could stay awake at night just to observe the delightful features of her husband in repose. Jacob always fell asleep quickly. She said nothing further, vaguely promising herself to give it a try. In fact she did not allow the thought to fester at all. Jacob had other things on his mind and she gave into him pretty quickly.

Much later, heart pounding and satiated, she allowed his strong arms to hold her tightly to his body, feeling his love in a different but equally meaningful way. Talk came easy to the loving couple in the aftermath of their desire.

'Jacob, I have stopped dreaming. Remember when I saw Knut and Arden. For days, my dreams were filled with shades of green before the story finally came to life. This time, it feels like nothing is moving forward. The swirling colours just don't seem to go anywhere. Do you know why?'

'How much do you want me to tell you KitCat?'

'Just a little. What I see in my head is sort of like what I imagine the aurora borealis would be. If that's it and it's over, that's fine, but somehow I feel there is an untold story behind the colourful activity.'

'There is KitCat.' Jacob's voice was reassuring. 'The events are still unfolding. The ending has not been written yet. What you see, the colours, are dancers, frenzied dancers, enjoying a concert.'

'So it is real. There is more to come?' There was such earnestness in her face. Jacob found it hard to resist.

'Yes.'

Cathy subsided for a few minutes, digesting Jacob's revelations. 'I can be patient, I think. Somewhere inside my head, it feels as if **the** story is ready to be revealed. I wondered if I was doing anything to prevent it from happening. You know, like holding back because I am afraid.'

'There's nothing to fear Cathy. Events reveal themselves when the time is right.'

'Don't you mean auspicious?' she asked, knowing it was a favourite word of seers and prophets.

'No, In this case, I mean right.'

Cathy smiled into the muscular shoulder which cushioned her face. Sometimes Jacob's understanding and intent, when dealing with inexplicable issues, needed to be expressed precisely. She accepted his correction and went on to talk a little more about another topic.

'Mom has asked me to watch Mea today. It will be fun. I miss Cilla so much but I can see how she needs the kind of tutoring which Holly can provide. That little girl will be quite an incredible medium one day.'

'You surprise me Cathy.'

'I didn't think I could ever surprise you! Is it because of Mea or Cilla?'

'Neither. You see something in Holly which she doesn't show everyone.'

'We've become very close. I enjoy talking with her. She doesn't make a big deal out of her abilities as a clairvoyant. I'm not nervous around her anymore because she doesn't try to see my future. If anyone does, it's Cilla! Besides, Holly's having a baby and I am looking forward to sharing a part of her experience. She's seems very confident but I know she is nervous. She says one of us will have the next Diosa.'

'Does that mean you're thinking maybe we should try? I am quite willing you know.'

'Oh Jacob, not yet. I am happy as we are. I know your mother would like it if I got pregnant but I still have a lot to learn about parenting.' Cathy paused, obviously struggling with her own deep-seated issues. Jacob waited hoping that his silence would be an invitation to open up. Cathy frowned before continuing in a soft voice.

'My mother was not a great role model even though I knew she loved me. I just hated the fact that she seemed to love Frederick or her clients more. To me, her caring ways always felt conditional, as if I had to meet a certain standard before she could love me.'

'Why do you feel she didn't love you as much?'

Cathy thought about her response for quite a while. She searched her mind for events from her childhood in which she felt abandoned. The educated social worker inside her head had long since identified fear as the core problem, driving her adult behaviour. Growing up, there were many nights when she had been alone and afraid. Her mother was often out with clients or out on the streets looking for clients while Cathy was tucked away in a small room.

Cathy's earliest memory was centered around the time when they left the safety of the tunnel community. It didn't seem like too long after their departure that she was wrenched from the small room Lena rented above. How long the separation lasted was not known to the young mind but Cathy, as a small child, felt lost without her sole anchor. She could not recall being abused by the 'foster' family who cared for her. In fact her memories of that time were almost surreal, as if the whole separation didn't really happen. Cathy couldn't recall much detail of the day to day routines. Only the reunion with her mother was clear in her mind.

Lena had come back like a stranger. She cried often. The weepy sadness lasted for many months. Cathy never understood what prompted the separation but as bad as life was with her mother, she still felt safer than when she had been with the strangers.

Cathy tentatively chose to voice some of her adult interpretations of the child she had been.

'Even though she let me go away from her, for reasons I didn't understand, she was even more withdrawn after I was returned to her. I don't remember her being anything other than a mostly silent, unloving parent until the day when that guy attacked me. For years, I felt like I was living in a vacuum, never being able to speak up, tiptoeing around her moods and her sorrow. When she saved me from that attack, something seemed to wake up inside of her and she became very protective. Allowing Frederick back into our lives gave her purpose. He was already sick, but he also provided some stability for us.'

Cathy had shared similar words before. It was however, the first time she talked in detail about the weaker, most troubling parts of her relationship with Lena. Jacob thought of his own laughter-filled years of love, growing up with his father. His wife's vulnerability always moved him near to tears.

'Cathy, I am so thankful that you took the time to share this with me. I know how hard it is for you to reveal these things from your past. I feel like the trust we need to build with each other is growing stronger.'

Cathy couldn't ever explain to Jacob how much his inclusive use of the word 'we' in his response freed her from the negativity of her life. Shame for her mother's lifestyle always held Cathy imprisoned in a world apart from others. The breech between the past and present was almost impossible to close and yet both of them worked towards a step by step intention to bridge the gap. Cathy touched the face of her husband before planting a soft kiss on his jaw. Reluctantly she pulled away from his warmth.

'I think I need to get myself ready. Mea is quite the handful. Perhaps we'll visit the children's program at the library today.'

'Did my mother say where she was going?'

'She going to try and make up with Diana.'

'I didn't know they had argued.'

'No nothing like that. Since her return she has not really invited Diana to the house just for women's talk. Mom feels like she owes Diana a debt of gratitude. They promised to get together at the wedding.'

Cathy knew she was being only partially truthful. Catherine did indeed want to reconnect with Diana. Much awkwardness passed between them, but there was also information, which Catherine needed. Only the former detective could access it without going through legal channels. Cathy tried to stare right into her husband's eyes as she spoke. '_If I tell mostly the truth, will he believe me? Darn!' s_he thought. To avoid giving herself away, she kept her mind focused on their lovemaking rather than the dilemma of how to control his mother's impending investigative actions before any trouble ensued.

The smile she threw in his direction was guileless and open. Jacob seemed satisfied. It was never easy to get the smallest detail past his supersonic mind.

* * *

California

'Today is the day Vlad!' Philippe's tone was unequivocal. 'I have given Hélène some time to adjust, to get used to _'you and me, us re_ally' and to relax but we don't have forever.'

'I know Phil. You just don't seem ready.'

'I am.'

Despite the reassurance offered, Vladimir did not feel confident that his partner would be able to withstand a day of discussion around the child of his blood, forever lost to him. 'Are you sure that you aren't setting yourself up for heartbreak?'

'More heartbroken than I am already. No. Allow me to know my daughter's life through the words and voice of her mother.'

A comforting arm on the shoulder was reassuring. 'I will make myself scarce today then. I plan to go down and see Terry. She has some big case she working on. Laddie is going shopping with me for a change of pace from the day care. By the way, her father is coming to town. Should we invite him up for dinner on Saturday? We could make it a small dinner party for Hélène as well.'

Philippe was agreeable and nodded his thanks. So far, the visit was going well. A social evening with friends seemed a good idea. Philippe knew that Vladimir would take care of everything with the same attention to detail he brought to his work.

After Vladimir left the house, he went in search of Hélène and found her out by the gardens, breathing in the ocean air.

'I can never get enough of this delicious view. It will always be a highlight of my trip here, Philippe.'

A spectacular smile followed the compliment. Philippe had been blessed with beautiful teeth which gave him a perfect, endearing smile, designed to invite confidence. They had already agreed to allocate the day to discuss their daughter dividing the time between home and a long drive. Hélène proclaimed herself ready. Later they would go through the box, but for the moment, Hélène would offer snippets of her daughter's life, using the voice and words born in their daughter's mind and heart, making the story painfully funny and poignant.

'She was a handful, I can tell you Philippe. She never stopped moving, always curious about everything. She could see something once and mimic it perfectly. She saw a brother and sister duo on television which she liked so she grabbed her brother Nathaniel and pushed him to sing according to her instructions. She insisted on the right foot movements, a perfect rendition and of course the homemade costumes. Oh la la! She could perform. Nathaniel was so good about it until he reached the age of ten. After that he refused to dance, although he did like singing.'

Philippe watched with tears and laughter as Hélène performed one of several song and dance routines which a youthful Madeleine performed with the family as her audience.

The morning flew by. After a quick lunch Hélène resumed her narrative.

'When she was eleven, she fell in love with the hero of her dreams. Madeleine liked watching old movies, you know black and white stories. Masked men seemed to draw her like a magnet. She read pretty good for her age. The library was just down the road from us, if you remember? She always took out books well beyond her age level, loving complex stories which she could take apart to perform bits and pieces here and there but Zorro became the main character in all her dreams.

His dual persona appealed to her. It was as if the two personalities fed some need in her. She took Don Diego and made him her dark, elegant prince. For him, she wore her prettiest princess dresses, learned Spanish and drew the pictures you saw in her box . He was not her masked hero though. She became the crusader, donning the black cape, hat and mask. She cut quite a figure but it was hard to take her seriously.'

'Did you find it strange Hélène?'

'Philippe, you know I believe in fantasy but in the very practical world in which we lived, our daughter could not do only this and survive. She needed to pay attention to her school work as well. I also told you her siblings hated her nonsense and Guy would press me to get help for her 'craziness'. I am ashamed to say I gave in to everyone else and stifled the needs of my daughter.'

Philippe knew it was time to call a halt to the revelations for awhile. He sensed the guilt rise in Hélène and knew it would cloud the rest of the day. 'Let's go for a drive along the coast. You will love the dolphins and I know a great place to get ice cream, unless you want to go to Malibu?'

'The dolphins, please?'

* * *

New York.

'Come in Catherine. Is Rob going to stay here with you?'

Catherine turned her head in silent query to Rob.

'I will take a short drive down the road. There's a couple of things I want to do. I know where you are. Call me when you are done.' The words were delivered in his usual succinct way.

Catherine nodded before stepping over the threshold into the _'dragon's den'. _She had no idea why that thought popped into her head. Diana stood just inside the door, a curious smile on her face. If she sensed a reluctance to enter, emanating from her guest, she did not let on. The women felt and looked awkward with each other.

Diana offered to show Catherine around her modest three bedroom bungalow. It was nothing like the Brownstone but Diana felt no shame. She was proud of her home. She and Joe had added an extra room for Diana's activities. The land space was quite large outside.

The November weather had long since killed off most of Long Island's gardens but there were a few late fall flowers still trying to make their presence felt, adding a bit of colour to the drab day.

Catherine made appropriate responses to the rather unexciting décor. She loved the polished floors and high ceilings. The guest didn't think herself to be a snob. She was quite happy to live below if Vincent wished. What was missing was a lack of warmth in the home. She knew Joe to be a passionate, impulsive man who grabbed life by the horns. The staid 1990's furniture didn't seem like him at all.

'Your home suits you Diana.'

'But not Joe?'

'No, not really.'

'Thanks for being honest. I think I like you better for not pretending. I haven't really done much with it for quite a while. When Joe and I were apart, it seemed pointless to change the layout. We hardly lived in the rooms. He was always in Albany and I….didn't care.'

'Do you mean that?'

'Yes there was no great romance there Catherine.'

'And now?'

Diana gave another odd smile and a shrug of the shoulders. It was clear to Catherine that she was going to have an uphill struggle to get anywhere with the standoffish redhead.

Diana asked if Catherine would like to see her work room. The offer immediately generated something in the former prosecutor who had often put herself in danger to solve cases. As soon as she entered Diana's private room Catherine was hooked. She was not technologically inclined but she was interested in process and Diana was as intense as they come.

Her most important cases were contained in albums. The women got talking and time flew. A tummy growl brought them back into the present.

'I forgot that you came for lunch. Shall we eat now?' Diana asked, clearly dismayed by her forgetfulness.

'Oh don't worry Diana. If I was hungry I would have said something but I would love to come back in here after we eat. This has been very exciting.'

For once, Diana's smile was genuine. She invited Catherine to have a seat in the cozy kitchen. Over the seafood pasta salad meal, they continued to discuss cases of interest. While Diana prepared fresh coffee to end the meal, Catherine became very quiet.

'What are you thinking about?'

'We haven't talked about my case, Diana. Do you feel uncomfortable sharing your journey with me.?'

'Catherine, I have to be honest. I suppose there is no real way to tiptoe around feelings.' Diana sat down at the table handing a cup of coffee to her guest. Her eyes were open and honest as she continued. 'I will share what I have from your investigation, when we go back inside but face to face, I need to get this off my chest so to speak.'

Catherine looked expectant but she instinctively knew what was coming.

'I had such strong feelings for Vincent for years. I helped him to find Jacob initially because he fascinated me. I continued to see him above and below but I always knew that his heart belonged to you. I hoped that in time, he might feel more than gratitude for me ….. but, it wasn't to be.'

Catherine impulsively placed her hand over the Diana's locked fingers. 'I find him irresistible. It doesn't surprise me that I am not the only one.'

'Yes, you are as special as he said. He talked about you non-stop.'

'Were you fed up with me after awhile.'

'Yes'

The two women laughed. The open talk helped to ease whatever tension remained.

'You know Catherine, that isn't the end of the story. After I left Vincent below, I started seeing Joe but … well he…'

'I know he had feelings for me Diana but there was no one for me but Vincent. Joe was such a good boss and an even better friend. He might have thought I was available. My life was pretty strange, living and working above, then seeing Vincent below. Did his feelings make a difference to your marriage?'

'At that time they did, but now I know it was because you were still alive. He kept that knowledge from everyone, including me. It coloured our relationship. I had my own secrets….the birth of Jacob and of course life below in the tunnels. Joe and I just couldn't be honest with each other.'

'And now?'

'We're mudgin' along.'

'Mudging?'

'Yeah it's kind of a muddy, fudging, muddle.' Diana's face twisted in an effort to get the words out.

'Diana, are you serious?'

For the first time, Catherine felt like she and Diana could be friends. There was something entirely amusing and natural about the redhead. She knew the former special investigator was a competent and caring professional. Those were qualities which Catherine could admire and appreciate. As the two women returned to the den, Catherine would learn so much more about Diana and a whole lot more about herself.

*Book 5 - Beauty and the Beast - the Nature of Purpose


	10. Chapter 10

**California**

By late afternoon, Hélène was relaxed enough to continue her emotional journey through Madeleine's life. How many times the story brought her close to tears, could not be counted. The guilt which accompanied each memory was held in check. To the mother's sad heart, Madeleine was a fun loving girl, talented, multifaceted and lost to both her parents in life, but not in memory.

As the narrative of her final days played out, Hélène asked Philippe to turn around and return home. The driving helped to restore some of her equilibrium. A brief glimpse of the water mammals reminded her that her daughter's spirit was also free. The dolphins, in their own way helped her to gather resources for the ending of the story. It had been many years since Hélène told the full story of Madeleine's final days.

They entered the house quietly, moving by mutual consent to the back. The view of the ocean from the gardens of Philippe's home seemed a fitting place to relate the details. The air, the water and the flowers somehow seemed to balance the horror of relating the details of the fire which eventually consumed the young girl's life.

'After I found out what Guy had done to my daughter, I was lost. On the day she finally spoke to me, it was because he begged her to have sex with him. For years before that he had already been touching her inappropriately. I didn't know. Madeleine never said a word. When she adopted the persona of the masked man, I wondered what prompted that change but I thought it was nothing more than her theatrics. As I think back now Philippe, I realize that she was probably so hurt by his betrayal. When she refused Guy's final advance, he got angry. The coward had the nerve to tell her it was ok because he was not her real father. That information was enough of a shock for her young mind and body never mind the careless seduction he used to manipulate her.

At first, she did not ask me about you. She only told me what happened between her and Guy. I immediately sent her to my mother. To my shame, I was not clear to her, about believing her. I did not ever think she was lying to me. Guy could be cruel but I never said "_Madeleine I believe you"_. I just gave in to her demand to be taken away. I knew she would be safe with her grandmother. My parents adored her but they told her things and didn't understand how much it hurt my relationship with my daughter. Even if my mother didn't love you, she loved your child, Philippe.'

He nodded in grateful thanks remembering the subtle conflict between them. Hélène's mother was a tyrant who dominated her family. Philippe was certain that she understood his attraction to men and tried to steer her daughter away from pursing a relationship which would only end in disaster. Unfortunately, Madeleine Sr. pushed her daughter toward an unhealthy liaison with an abusive pedophile. Philippe wasn't sure what he would do with regard to Guy. His initial response had been to track him down but he realized that his responsibility was to Hélène, to hear her story and help bear her grief. Later he would tackle his feelings towards the sleazy husband. He turned his attention back to Hélène who was speaking slowly and in French.

'Madeleine spent quite a few months with my mother. I was paralyzed with fear and anger, two emotions I could not reconcile. I wanted to leave but the other children loved their father. He made every effort to be good to them, knowing that I would have a hard time if I separated from him. I could not support them on my own. I spoke to Madeleine every day but she refused to come home unless Guy left. When it became clear to her that he was not leaving, she came to see me early one morning. I was unprepared for what she told me.'

Hélène looked up, as if seeking permission to continue. Philippe nodded. He did not try to stop her or halt the tears which began to flow. He suspected that some of what she was about to say, had never been told.

'Madeleine was fifteen by then. She told me that Guy said was not her father. My daughter asked me point blank, what kind of woman I had been, who could love one man and marry another. She wanted to know why I took her away from you. She was sure you would have loved her without conditions. I could not deny anything because it was the truth. I know you would have been a good father. She said she was never coming back to live in the house as long as Guy was there'.

"_You have made your choice Maman. Just tell me who and where my father is. Someday I will go to him and have a real family again."_

'I felt the pain of her words to the very core of my heart. What could I say? I really didn't know where you were. I told her your name and recited our last conversation. You were on your way to New York. I think that's what you told me Philippe.'

Hélène waited for a confirming nod before taking a breath and continuing her narrative.

'Madeleine gave me a curious smile. I didn't know what lay behind her eyes. The mask she adopted for her performances had now become a part of her face. I could not read her. She said goodbye and hugged me for the first time in weeks. I thought maybe she had forgiven me and was planning to return home to visit more often. I felt a glimmer of hope. But, unknown to me, she was planning to leave all along.

After she walked out the door, there were many times during the course of that day when she had seemed so emotionally distant to me. My heart was in a turmoil about what I should do. At some point, I think I made up my mind to leave Guy. Later that day, with the plan not even concrete in my mind and, on an impulse, I called my mother to check on her. Maman told me Madeleine was not there_.' _

"_Hélène, she packed her bag this morning and said she was returning home. She told me that she misses her siblings"._

'Mon Dieu! My heart began to race immediately. It didn't take me long to figure out that Madeleine had already left to find you. She lied to me and my mother to give herself time to get away. I was in a state. I called the police but they refused to help me. It was too early they said. She couldn't be designated as missing until 24 hours. Guy was nervous also and did not support me. I even suspected him of kidnapping her and doing harm to her because he was obviously trying to cover up for himself.'

Hélène sat in a chair and started rocking her body. Philippe longed to hold her but refrained from getting closer. He could see the emotional zone into which Hélène retreated while relating the story. Her body and actions told him so much more than the words. He knew she would reach out to him if needed.

'Hours stretched into days and days to weeks. It was clear that she had crossed the border. It was not so hard to do in those days but I think she needed to have an adult with her. Someone was responsible for transporting her, but I will never know who.

As the weeks became months, I started to lose all hope. I didn't know anything about the American side. We never watched the news from there but when the police came to see me, I was shocked to know that there had been a few hostels along the route 89, which took in kids, mostly runaways who were heading south. They had few rules and regulations. Most were just old farmhouses turned into cheap money making ventures. Most of them were deemed to be unsafe.

Many of the kids were smokers and drug abusers. Apparently, someone accidentally started a fire. There was no alarm and no sprinklers. The structure quickly burned to the ground trapping the kids inside. Madeleine had been there. The bodies which had been trapped on the upper floor were huddled together in death and unrecognizable. Her few things were found among the ashes.

You saw the necklace among her things. It had been my only gift from you. When she was leaving me that morning, I asked her to wait. I went to my room and took the necklace from my jewelry box. 'La voici' I said. 'This is all I have of your father. Keep it and wear it. Perhaps it will help you to feel close to him. If she didn't have it, I would never have known where she was. My only consolation was the knowledge that least her death was a release from her turmoil and for me a relief from the constant worry but as you can imagine, I have been haunted for years by the vision of her in the fire.'

Philippe said nothing for awhile. They had talked before. Some of the story was not a surprise. In the quiet following her revelations, Philippe tried to recall the moment when he gave the necklace as a gift. They were in their third year of university. It was Hélène's twenty-first birthday. A group of them had gone to their favourite club. They were not performing but Hélène went on stage with the local band and sang her heart out, thrilling everyone. Philippe had not planned to give her a gift. They were all 'poor' students with little money to spare so friendship was the gift they shared with each other. The necklace had belonged to his mother. In a moment of weakness, he removed it from his neck and wrapped it around her own, partly because she was lovely and partly because her singing moved him to another dimension of delight. He did not know at the time that Hélène was more thrilled by the chaste kiss which accompanied the necklace. She couldn't tell him how long she had waited for him to declare some feeling for her. As if she could divine his thoughts, Hélène looked up at that moment.

'Did you ever really love me Philippe?'

'I have loved you more than any other woman except my mother. I still love you but never in the way that can make you happy. I would have been a better husband to you than Guy. I would have been a better father to our daughter but I could never have been completely happy and you would not have been either.'

'I see that now. I know too that I would have been heartbroken if you did not return my love. With Guy, I didn't care. Your love for Vladimir astounds me and yet I see that you are happy.' Hélène looked away for a moment. 'Our daughter is dead. We have nothing more to share. What now Philippe?'

'We want to introduce you to the family Hélène. I hope you will always feel like you are a part of us. Then, I wish you to meet my protégé who sings so badly, but writes beautiful music. Let us be together for a few more weeks. When I went into the box, her childish heart stories and the few trinkets drew me to her. But, in the necklace, there is an energy. When I touch it, it says to me "_don't let her go_. _Find me, please find me"_. This makes no sense but if there is more to the story, things even you don't know, let's give ourselves a chance to discover it together.'

Philippe went on to talk about the plan for a simple dinner party with Vladimir's son and wife, and a few close friends. Hélène was agreeable. They passed the remainder of the afternoon discussing Philippe's protégé.

Vladimir returned home to find them seated almost as he had left them in the morning and yet he knew that so much had discussed. The shadows, deepening the lines on the face of his partner, had disappeared.

New York

Catherine sat in the large SUV in stunned silence. She managed a slight smile to reassure Rob but her heart rate was almost stifling with its irregular tattoo. She willed it to silence its pounding in her ears. The story! The incredible story of Diana's fight for Jacob's life, his recovery from the hands of Gabriel and the freedom almost denied to Vincent shocked her into silence. She could not in a million years imagine that her own life had been so brutalized by the monster Gabriel. Catherine was shocked by Diana's persistence in searching, not just for Jacob, but also Vincent who had given himself up, in hopes of saving his child's life. What was even more shocking was the knowledge that Jacob had seen the videos of his mother's captivity and his birth. Catherine wondered if he would hate her for not fighting longer, waiting longer to see if Vincent would come and save them.

Allowing access to the blocked channel into her past was revelatory. It opened like a festering wound and once flowing with its incessant poison, it continued to pour out the worst memories of those months of waiting and waiting for the superhuman lover to save her. Catherine was angry, then sad in turns, just as she had been throughout the pregnancy. In all her life, including the death of her mother and father, she never felt so alone as she had in those weeks before the birth of her son.

The contemplation of all it meant disturbed her. She felt anger inside but it should not be directed towards her husband. In retrospect, he had been weakened by an illness brought on by Pater's interference in his life. His memory was blunted by the fever which ravaged his body. His strength had been weakened. Catherine recalled that their emphatic connection was lost. Vincent could not even remember her name much less cope with the news of her impending pregnancy. He even lacked the strength to fight for their relationship.

Bits and pieces had been strung together in her mind. It became quickly apparent that Vincent had been very selective in recounting the historical events to his recovering wife. At Catherine's insistence, Diana was not. It was clear that they had been lucky but what a debt of gratitude Catherine owed to the woman who was able to extract revenge and save father and son. The feelings she felt for Diana began to ebb and flow in her heart. How misguided she had been. Diana could not have saved Vincent if she didn't love him. Catherine was suddenly and inexplicably tearful about the love which passed between her husband and his friend.

'Rob, don't take me home just yet. I need to think and I have to do it alone.'

'Is there somewhere you want me to take you Catherine?'

Both hands were wrapped around her face. Catherine thought of the few places where she could go to find comfort. There weren't many. She still had not reconnected with many of her old friends.

'Just drive around for now, I don't care where. I'll let you know.'

Catherine watched the stores pass by outside the window. She kept her mind blank before allowing selective thoughts to enter her consciousness. It was quite a while before she pulled out the shiny new cell phone which Jacob had insisted on giving her. A few numbers had been programmed into its keypad. She scrolled down the list wondering who would be the kindest soul. Of all the people to call, Vincent would have been the best person to offer comfort to his wife. Catherine felt that her lack of understanding, about the true nature of their twenty five year odyssey made her seem very selfish indeed. Considering everything he went through it was a wonder that Vincent still loved her at all. She would not burden him further with her foolishmess.

One thing Catherine understood right away was the need to calm herself. She hoped that her husband's preoccupation with the flooding water channels below would distract him from her very real distress. Jacob was another matter. She pleaded with some unknown force to give her strength to hold the rising distress within the confines of the car. Like a reprieve, the name she most trusted scrolled up on her phone. Without hesitation, she dialed the number.

'Catherine? What on earth? Are you alright?'

'I am not in trouble if that's what you are asking. I need a friend. I can think of none better. Where are you?'

'As luck would have it, I am in Manhattan today. Tell Rob or Carl to take you to my apartment. I'll meet you there.'

Catherine sighed and hung up the phone. She gave Rob his instructions and settled back in her seat. Within minutes of completing her call she received one from Jacob.

His anxious voice increased her sense of guilt.

'I am fine son, really. I had a great afternoon with Diana. I am stopping in Manhattan to do a bit of shopping. I'll see you at home later.'

'Are you sure Mama?'

Catherine could hear the pleading for a truth she could not express. She chose to ignore it. Jacob had already worried about her enough. He needed to get on with his own life. She suppressed her natural inclination to mother him and ended the call.

Less than thirty minutes later she was seated in the sterile living room of her childhood friend Patrick.

'You always seem to come to my rescue these days.'

'It is hardly enough to make up for years of leaning on you Catherine. Tell me' he said handing her a cup of tea, 'what is troubling you?'

'I was confronted with a past I hardly wanted to remember.'

Patrick's eyes asked the obvious question.

'My missing life is here to remind me that I am old, well older. Much of it was spent without the love and support of my husband and son. Guilt plays a big part in my being here with you now instead of them, but I mostly feel disconnected from the made-up fantasy of those missing years and the truth of what actually happened. Today doesn't feel real. I picked up where I left off, but I didn't really. Neither my son nor his father hate me for not being with them since the beginning, but I hate myself.'

'Come on Catherine. You know how I feel about hate. You are, in reality, the luckiest woman alive.'

'Yes but why don't I feel it Patrick. My aging body has only just woken up to it's new life, not because I have a profound sense of self but because it has begun its decline into old age before it had a chance to be young and happy. How can I face reality like that?'

Patrick sat on the couch and gathered his friend into a warm embrace. 'Tell me what you found out today which has brought on this sense of aging?'

'It isn't just today. Since the wedding I have been playing with youth as if the years didn't matter. Every time I turn around I am reminded that I did live those years but where are they? Will they ever exist for me? I thought I wanted to know about all the things which happened but now I don't know.'

'You are grieving for those lost years Catherine. It is a natural circumstance of your coma. Are you thinking in terms of what if this and what if that?'

'I am.'

'It's futile. Your present is what it is. You can't alter the circumstances of the last twenty-five years, no matter how hard you try.'

'I would like to alter them but I know I can't. It would help me to know them again, see them in perspective.'

'You son is blessed with the capacity to do this for you. Why don't you ask him?'

'He has been without me too. He suffered all those years we were apart. So did Vincent. If my life was not good, we will all feel the burden of it.'

'Sharing it may release you from the self imposed prison of it as well.'

'I'm scared Patrick.'

'Don't be. Your faith in the love you share with this incredible man is unshakeable. Whatever you think about your experience, his love will never falter.'

Patrick went on to give more reassurances. He could feel Catherine's tension lessen.

'What brings you out today anyway?' he asked finally.

'You know, I forgot all about my reasons for going to see Diana in the first place. Howie is worried about his community committee. I am realizing that the woman who is heading it does not fit the profile of a community leader. I wanted to ask about her.'

'Fishing or investigating?'

'Neither today. I was reliving,' Catherine said derisively.

'Listen Catherine, Howard has some brilliant ideas and his heart is in the right place but he also has people around him who are unscrupulous. Be careful. You are hardly in a state of mind to be looking for trouble.'

Catherine looked up startled. 'Do you mean that?'

Patrick's nod was firm. Far from discouraging Catherine, the worried look only generated more impetus to get to the bottom of Susana's involvement in a project which held little interest for her.

Catherine thanked her friend for his support. Feeling calm and thoughtful, she left the building. The glance she gave Rob, pleaded with him to be the soul of discretion.


	11. Chapter 11

Blunt XI

Catherine stared out the window watching the rain fall steadily through the dark night. Heavy droplets of water, reflected in car lights, bounced off the road like tiny rubber balls flying in all directions. November weather was unpredictable. It could snow or rain. She remembered its unpredictability from her childhood but missed more than twenty Novembers lying useless and unresponsive in a coma. Her senses recognized that climate had changed from the warmer California winters. She could hate the wetness and chill which seeped into her bones, but she didn't.

The incessant rain kept her husband below and away from her thoughts. She prayed for the safety and wellbeing of their family in the tunnels. The water emergency threatened everything they held dear. Vincent`s preoccupation with the crisis prevented him from accessing the turmoil of her thoughts. If he could spare a moment, it would be for the children who were already stressed by the abandonment of parents. Going below was out of the question for her. She would have been a distraction for Vincent. Her occasional physical unsteadiness posed a risk.

Catherine spent most of her time organizing some supplies through the helpers above. She arranged to move any children at risk from the tunnels. As she sat at the window seat in the living room, her thoughts passed from the situation below to the worrisome gap in her knowledge base. _'Twenty years gone, dissolved into nothingness!_' She hated to think about the time as loss but could not put it in perspective. She tried to recall some event, some memory, any sound which would give her brain some context but there was nothing. She wondered why it was important but knew immediately that her healing journey was drawing to a close. As strength returned to her limbs, and the life force returned to her internal organs, she needed to reconcile the mental aspect of her being. Vincent's steadfast love allowed her to bridge the gap between then and now. She had long since accepted the baby son who was now a man. It would have been easy to pretend that the black hole of her life didn't matter, but the missing years and its attendant knowledge deficit did matter. Perhaps an in-depth study would reveal no memory at all but a stubborn part of her refused to accept that she had no sense of where she was all those years. She must have heard something.

Catherine's head turned sharply as the sound of her daughter-in-law's footsteps were heard coming down the hall.

'I'm in the front Cathy,' she called out.

'Mom , have you heard anything new?'

'No nothing. Vincent will send word if he is worried.'

'I haven't heard from Jacob either but I know now, that he can reassure me without actually saying anything.'

Catherine smiled at the lovely face of Cathy. She stretched out her arm to draw the young woman into an embrace. 'You two are perfect for each other.'

Cathy was silent for awhile before tackling an issue far removed from the moment. 'It's been so crazy with this emergency. We really didn't get a chance to chat after you saw Diana. Did you find out anything new?'

'Cathy, I have been so glad that Vincent has been away these past few days. I wanted to avoid telling him what she told me. I had no idea how involved she had been with Jacob's capture. My husband has been trying to protect me by limiting my knowledge.'

Cathy's silence spoke volumes. Clearly that was not an answer she was expecting.

'Did you know Cathy?'

'I had a pretty good idea. Jacob and I went to see her before he made the trip out west. She sent us to Joe to find out the truth but she had no knowledge of you still being alive.'

'I know that now. Did you know that there were videos?'

Cathy nodded.

'Have you seen them?'

Cathy pulled in her lower lip. She couldn't lie and yet the worry of sharing the information without backup worried her.

'Cathy?'

'Mom, I'm sorry. I don't know what to say. Jacob didn't know how to use the video. He was so desperate for a sense of you that he needed to...you know...he wanted to see you.'

'What did he say?'

'My mother was beautiful and so brave.'

Catherine was silent, digesting the compliment. "Since my body and my memory have returned, a lot of time has been spent wondering if I did everything possible to save myself and my child. I thought myself a coward for giving up so easily. That feeling lay at the core of my depression.'

'Oh no, Mom! I think few women could have withstood the pressure you were under. It boggles my mind.' Cathy paused seeing an expectant look from Catherine. 'Mom, I don't want to look at them without Jacob and Vincent here.'

'I think I am content, for now, to know that they are here and available. I can wait. What oppresses me more is the huge gap in my memory. I long to have just one sense of reality from those twenty years.'

'Jacob can help you.'

'That's what Diana and Patrick said. Both of them!'

'Let him. He would be glad to do it.'

'Have you allowed him to help you find your family?'

'No...but Mom, I don't have a gap in my memory. I am looking into the past. Jacob has taught me how to access information through dreams. I am working on it. He doesn't have to tell you everything but he can help you find your way. He's done that for me.'

Catherine smiled at the eagerness in her daughter in law. The urgency to seek out the past reduced somewhat. With Cathy's entreaty on behalf of Jacob, she knew that in time she could find her way. 'I'll consider taking it step by step. When this crisis is over, we'll look at the videos together. In the meantime, I was so caught up with my needs I forgot to ask Diana anything much about Susana. I will say that I enjoyed Diana's professional company. She is a great investigator.'

Cathy nodded. She felt that Catherine's looming personal crisis had passed without incident. Her own intuition told her that it was temporary. Like her own need to find answers, Cathy sensed, in her mother in law, that same pressure to connect all the dots of her life. The two women shared some more desultory conversation before Cathy headed back upstairs.

* * *

Catherine's restlessness did communicate itself to Cathy. She was worried about Jacob who had gone below to help his father sort out the excess water flooding the tunnels and threatening the community. As soon as he left work in the day, he made his way there before coming home tired and worried. They were very close to having to evacuate the entire community. For the past three nights the women had been alone. Cathy had work to do for Holly and quickly completed her assignments before sharing time with her mother-in-law. This was the first time they were able to discuss the visit to Diana.

Back in her apartment, Cathy sat in the den staring at the computer screen, unable to find even one topic to 'Google'. She spun the desk chair around giggling like a school girl when nausea overtook her nonsensical behaviour. The chair stopped at an odd angle to the computer but in her direct line of vision was the gold and black box which Edgar Raeburn had given her before his death. She had glanced inside of it once before placing it on the shelf. Cathy had no real interest in her father's family. They had treated her and Lena with disdain. Frederick was indeed her biological father. Unknown to Cathy and her mother, Edgar had checked to see if the DNA matched. He kept that knowledge to himself all those years because he hated the lifestyle of his son. _'How silly to punish the child for the sins of the father,_' she thought.

Cathy stood up and took the box off the shelf, untying the ribbon and opening it carefully. Inside was the book which she had glanced at briefly and a few trinkets which probably had value but Cathy had no interest in determining their worth. She turned the pages over quickly, by-passing the numerous family trees which traced the Raeburn dynasty.

The last few pages were the only ones of importance at that moment. She turned to the section which contained information about the man who dominated her mother's life. Scripted in a beautiful hand was the name Frederick, his birthdate, a copy of an astrological chart and other data which had no meaning to Cathy's untutored eyes. She turned over the first page. Pictures of the child at various stages brought a frown to the forehead. _'His eyes always looked so sad'_. There was not one picture of Frederick's mother. An old photo posed with his brother, Brian's father Edgar Jr. gave no clue as to the relationship between the boys. _'At least he had a brother. I had no one.'_

Cathy continued to turn the pages, remembering the story of Vincent's mother, who had spent time caring for the youngsters. _'I can't believe how interconnected this family is. Are we meant to find each other and be together? For what purpose? _She looked at a list of Frederick's accomplishments. He had been a pretty good student, held two degrees. Cathy knew that Frederick cared about the Music Theatre Arts but she was discovering that his initial interest was in architecture. _'How did he move from one to the other?'_

Despite hating him for so many years, Cathy immersed herself in the information which the book provided. She had short changed her father for years, seeing in him a lazy dilettante who did little except live off Lena's earnings while sharing his body with unclean men. She suspended that judgement in the face of this new image of a man who obviously found beauty in buildings, new or old. Clearly those structures which housed theatrical arts attracted his interest. Cathy wondered if the buildings shown in the book were ones which he had designed or just things which he admired.

One building seemed to hold a place of honour. Clearly it was one which Frederick loved more than any other. The exterior had an odd Egyptian motif. It wasn't strange that there would be a connection to Frederick. Edgar Raeburn Sr. and his cronies had all been followers of Aleister Crowley, a magician and philosopher who spent years in Egypt bringing back to Europe, England and the US, his version of the mysteries. Surely Edgar's grandchildren would follow in the footsteps outlined by their grandfather.

Cathy didn't know much about buildings but the photo seemed to indicate that it would have been built well before Frederick would have been capable of any design. What was it about the structure which he loved? Cathy herself felt drawn to the photo. She looked up at the screen saver on the computer. Without a touch, the home page came on, as if inviting her to Google the history of the remarkable structure. She looked at the keyboard and quickly typed in The Empress Theatre, unsure what she would find.

* * *

**California**

Hélène stared at the microphone in front of her face. Not one shred of nervousness permeated her body. Philippe had asked her to provide an interpretation of the song written by his protégé. His intention was to record a version for the young lady and hope that she would take it to heart. From his booth, he smiled broadly and gave the thumbs up. The music played in her ears and she sang lightly, giving an upbeat but soulful rendition of the music, something apparently impossible for the young lady.

Philippe listened with pride, never wavering in his admiration for the voice. Even Den, who usually managed the 'stiff upper lip' of his countryman almost all the time, fell prey to the seductiveness of her voice.

'Did you ever record before?' he had asked.

'Backup, a little, but not like a professional. I am a teacher.'

The three of them listened to the playback and sighed collectively. They hoped that the aspiring writer/singer would hear a symphony rather than the raucous rap she chose to make her musical vehicle. The trio declared themselves satisfied and ended the session.

'Are we going now?' Hélène asked, getting more nervous about meeting Philippe's other family.

Philippe nodded. His mind was preoccupied and focused on his partner. Vladimir had spent the day organizing and planning the evening dinner party. Every hour the number of invitees increased. He had phoned the studio the previous day to say that Sandy was coming to town and hoped to visit with Terry and Jason. Naturally she had to be included in the invitation. Sandy always seemed to pick the wrong time to insert herself in the family. Vladimir would never encroach on her life in New Mexico but she found ways to remain a part of his life. Philippe turned to bestow a smile on Hélène, recognizing her sudden anxiety.

'Don't worry. It will be fine,' he said as they sped their way home.

'I know these people don't have to like me but I don't want them to judge me either. I made so many mistakes with our daughter.'

'Only Jason and Terry will know our full connection, unless you choose to share. They would never judge you. Are you worried about singing?'

Hélène laughed. 'Have I ever?'

The pair discussed the evening ahead. Vladimir, who had heard Hélène sing, asked if she would entertain the guests. They often had a musical evening at home but it would be a wonderful change of pace. 'You could sing anything,' he urged Hélène 'and either me or Philippe would accompany you. Would you take requests?'

Hélène laughed. 'I will sing ten songs from the artists of my home. I will take two requests.'

Philippe could have predicted that response. She had always said the same thing from their earliest days singing in clubs around Montreal.

Later that evening, the two men received their guests while the Canadian woman sat and smiled hoping that she could hold her own with what she perceived as a very sophisticated California crowd. As soon as Terry, Jason and Sandy arrived, the atmosphere changed. Terry's warm hug was reassuring but Sandy exuded an air of ownership, as if she was married to both men. Jason tried to run interference and keep her away from Vladimir but she was relentless in trying to learn more about the woman from Philippe's past.

Hélène, who was no stranger to controversy, put Jason out of his misery and made her way over to his controlling mother. Surprisingly, they seemed to get along well discussing children and family. 'We are almost from the same place,' declared Sandy who had no idea of the vast cultural difference between her and the French Canadian. Everyone winced at the comment but Sandy carried on unaware of how her behaviour affected everyone.

Dinner was served early. Sandy seemed to simmer down a little but picked at her food. It was clear that she had, at some point in her life, suffered from an eating disorder. Hélène knew that her nervous energy hid a very insecure personality. Empathy made her kinder to Sandy than she needed to be. She tried to spend a fair amount of time with everyone getting to know them. Of all the people present, Terry's father held her interest longer than anyone else. He was seated next to her at dinner. He was gracious, elegant and soft spoken. He treated her with the same courtesy as Philippe. His old world charm and manners drew her like a magnet. Before long their shared grief over the loss of a child drew them into an intimate conversation. Glances between Philippe and Terry included raised eyebrows and soft winks. Philippe hated Guy and legitimately despised his behaviour towards Helene. He wasn't sure what to make of Alejandro.

Marian arrived after dinner. She almost declined due to a previous engagement. She said little. Her mind was preoccupied with an urgent business matter. She cornered Terry for quite a while before introducing herself to Hélène. She also noted Alejandro's interest which left her nose slightly out of joint. The sun was setting when everyone moved to a patio area where another piano had been set up and a few other instruments were laid out. Philippe introduced Hélène as a petite singer with an extraordinary voice.

'We are lucky to have her with us. She has promised to sing a few songs and will take a couple of requests. All of you know Vladimir and I will be doing accompaniment but for those who are musically inclined, please choose your weapon and join in.'

The musicians in the group laughed but many of them felt honoured to add their talent to the surprisingly beautiful voice. The songs were decidedly Canadian, from Dion, Lang, Murray and Adams but most had been international hits. Everyone was asked to hold applause but it was impossible to listen without being moved by the voice. At the end of the ten songs, Hélène took a bow, thanked her fellow participants heartily and faced the audience to ask for two requests only. A small disagreement ensued between two of the guests but was soon settled when the guest of honour knew only one, well enough to sing. It was a surprising ballad from Kenny Loggins, _For The first Time_. When she was done Hélène looked directly at Alejandro, knowing that she wanted to sing for him.

'She is not Canadian but do you know the work of Edith Piaf?' he asked tentatively.

'She is French and lived for a time in my hometown. Of course I know her. Which of her songs appeals to you, Alejandro?'

They spoke in French, much to the chagrin of everyone except Philippe and Terry.

'Hymne a l'amour.'

The song was one of the most well known and loved from the 'little bird'. 'I hope I can do justice to her memory.'

Since she had been singing the songs of Piaf since childhood, Hélène had no problem performing her own beautiful haunting rendition. She avoided the vibrato which characterized Piaf's work but sounded lovely. More than a few tears were shed. Sandy, listened intently and knew that somewhere inside of her she felt a hollow, not by the specific words which were unknown but by the sound of a voice, whose pain could be felt in every note. A sob escaped her lips before she rose gracefully and sought a place of safety from uncharacteristic tears. Jason joined his mother, surprised to see her crying.

'What is it Mom? This is not like you at all.'

'Her sadness is so palpable. I can feel it. I can't imagine what it would be like to lose a child forever but for the first time, I regret taking you away from your father. How painful that must have been for you and for him. I was so selfish Jason. Can you ever forgive me?'

'Dad always told me that you did it because you loved me and you were scared. If he was understanding, I felt that I could be too. I tried.'

'He's a good man, son. I was angry because I had loved him so much.'

'I know and so does he. Maybe that's what connects you to Hélène. She loved Philippe too and kept the knowledge of his child from him until a few weeks ago.'

'My God! And, now that child is dead. How sad.'

'Jason, Sandy...is everything alright?'

Sandy turned at the sound of her name from Vladimir's lips. She went to him immediately, taking both his hands in hers and looking straight into his eyes. 'Can you ever forgive me Vlad? I was so foolish.'

'No, you were angry and had a right to be. I just didn't know which way to go but I couldn't continue.'

For the first time since he was a child, Jason saw his parents embrace as friends. He felt a little tearful himself. He left them alone and went back to the patio to reassure the others that all was well.

Everyone continued talking about Hélène's voice. Gradually the party moved in and out, separating and joining together until many of the guests felt tired. Only Jason, Terry, Sandy and Alejandro remained. They talked and talked until the conversation came around to the child, whose memory brought Hélène to California.

'Can you share more of her story with us?' asked Terry gently.

'I can...a little bit.' She talked about the delightful child who had grown into a teenager with the promise of a future, unfulfilled. So that there would be no false reassurances, she also spoke briefly about the runaway child, avoiding the reason for her leaving home. She added information about where Madeleine had gone and her place of death.

'My God!' exclaimed Sandy. 'Was that in 1984-85?'

At the confirmation head tilt from Hélène, Sandy shook her head.

'What do you know Sandy?' Hélène asked anxiously.

'My older brother was a trooper. He was there at that time. You know I am from upper New York State. He wrote me about that horrific event. He himself had a teenage son and felt so sorry for the grieving parents. Many of the children could not be identified although there were some who were able to get out during the first explosion, many were left behind. I am so sorry Hélène. It is a sadness none of us would ever want.'

'No. My only regret is that Philippe could not share her life. I cannot make up the loss to him now, but he will know her a little more through my memories, I hope.'

Philippe gave an approving nod. He didn't want Hélène to hold herself responsible. For the first time he commented on the tragedy. 'Hélène was good enough to keep many souvenirs from her life. I feel such a wonderful vibration of loving energy when I touch her things, especially a necklace I had given to her mother, which was passed on to her. If she is sending me a message, it is one of love.'

The evening ended on a happier note. Philippe talked about his plan to utilize Hélène's services with his latest protégé. 'Good luck!' everyone chimed in but after the musical performance they hoped Hélène would be able to effect some compromise between the young lady and her destiny.

At the door, Terry pulled Philippe aside. 'You know Phil, if you want to know what happened to your daughter in her final days, Jacob, Catherine's son will be able to help you. I sensed some unfinished business between the two of you which haunts your soul.'

* * *

Later that night, after everyone was asleep, Philippe rose from his bed. Restlessness drove him to the box which held his daughter's memories. He withdrew the necklace, went to the window overlooking the ocean and held it in his hand. The metal tingled where it rested along the lines of his fingers. 'Know that I would have loved you forever Madeleine,' he whispered into the night sky.

'_Oui, je sais, Papa.'_


	12. Chapter 12

Blunt XII

'Whozzat?'

Philippe winced at the diction but smiled in response to the question. 'She is someone who loved your song and wanted to sing it. We recorded it for her to listen to. Thought you might like to hear it too.'

'Wow! She's got a voice. Whatzzername?'

'Hélène'

Philippe waited patiently while his young protégé digested the information. He hoped she would feel flattered by the presentation of her song in a different format. Clearly she was a skilled song writer. Performance was not her strong suit, at least not in the format which she clung to with a persistence bordering on obsession.

'Funny name the way you say it. Whatszit?'

'It's Helen in French-Canadian.'

'Ohhhhh, like Celine Dion. She here?'

Philippe kept his surprise well hidden. He often wondered if Kayleah was able to have any thought beyond trying to be a rap star. That she knew a contemporary singer like Dion was not unusual but that she knew the famed songstress was also French Canadian came as a surprise. He motioned for his assistant to call Hélène and waited.

'Oh hi' Kayleah said rising, to greet the face behind the voice. 'I am surprised. Thought you would be …uh…'

'Younger?'

'Sorry.'

'No need. My voice is a cover up for my real age,' Hélène said with a wink. 'Please to meet you Kayleah. You are very talented.'

Kayleah laughed before digging her hands in the pocket of her jeans and offering thanks for the compliment. She was immediately curious and touched by Hélène's kindness. 'You sing my song in a way I never heard before. It was beautiful. I almost didn't recognize it at first.' Everything about Kayleah's speech and demeanour changed.

'When Philippe showed it to me, I knew I just had to sing it. I couldn't believe how well you put it together. I didn't believe you could be so…'

'Young?'

At the affirming nod, there was more laughter. Philippe felt at ease, seeing Hélène in a new light. Watching her negotiate a conversation with Kayleah, allowed him to assess qualities he knew existed but never experienced. Within a short time, his protégé was deeply engaged and interested in seeing performance art in a different way.

'Ya know, I really like Rap but there's something about the way you sing my song that makes me want to write more.'

'You can incorporate a couple of styles in one song. The change makes people notice your voice and brings out the best qualities of the music and words.'

'Wow!'

'Come on over to the piano. Let me show you something.'

Before long, the teacher had completely drawn the student into another style of music using her own lyrics and score. Everyone in the studio, who had been watching Kayleah try to perform outside of her comfort zone, was astounded by the way in which Hélène was able to reverse a trend which would have derailed the career before it got off the ground.

Philippe observed Hélène and Kayleah at the piano. Her fingers were short but ran over the keys with ease. He remembered when the guys in the band would tease her about not managing the 'octave' but she always did. Her fingers from base to tip were all supple and moved with accuracy and speed. They were as straight as they had been years ago despite the hardship of her life. Apart from the gray hair and more than a few lines of experience marking her features, she was as striking as she had been in her youth. It didn't take long for the student to be fully engaged in learning.

'_How does she do it?'_ Philippe wondered for the umpteenth time since Hélène's arrival.

Very soon, the picture of the two women faded from his sight and a vision appeared of Hélène, much younger, sitting with Madeleine at the piano he had seen in Montreal. Mother and daughter played a song together, singing and laughing. For a long time Philippe was not cognizant of the present or past time frame. He surely felt as if he had stepped back in time, even as another part of him remained focused on the 'impromptu' lesson unfolding before his eyes.

Despite the dual phases occurring in his conscious mind, he felt no fear. If this was the way he would sense and know his daughter then his mind was open to the channels through which her energy flowed into him. He wondered how the force of her vibration could have been so fresh even though Madeleine had been dead for over twenty five years.

At the dinner party, Sandy's memory of the event had added legitimate weight to Hélène's story. He couldn't help but remember that she had also said some children survived. A hope rose but died almost immediately. He briefly considered that after such an horrific experience, surely the traumatized child would have wanted to return home, if not to her mother then to her grandmother. He could not understand how if she had been alive, she wasn't found. Philippe knew he should return to the present and give his undivided attention to the progress of his protégé, but before he closed the mind's eye on the past, one last whisper escaped into his mind.

'_Je n'avais rien, Papa_.'

'_Of course you had nothing'_, his mind replied_. 'You were a child, a runaway, scared and vulnerable. There was no one to protect you.'_

The grieving father had no understanding of the origin of the messages nor his ability to respond from some far corner of his mind. He was aware that Madeleine had been searching for him when she ran away. The desire to find her natural father was imprinted within her last final conscious thoughts before death. Philippe was certain that the voice he heard was hers, rising from out of the mists of the past. He would not dismiss it as nonsense nor would he discuss it unless he sensed a need beyond the simple reassurances which ascended from the depths of his saddened heart.

'Philippe, are you daydreaming?'

'Oui, Mignonne.'

Hélène was startled to hear his response. It wasn't that he spoke French. But there was a look about him which took her back to the night when Madeleine was conceived. Philippe had been a tender but awkward lover, as if he wasn't sure. In a moment of restraint, when she intuitively knew that their coupling would have irrevocable consequences, she had asked if he was ok. His look and the simple answer was the same then as now.

'Why do you look at me like that?'

'Something about your visage just now took me back to 1969. It was as if we were being given a chance to start over, but differently,' she added to quell the denial of romance which rested on the tip of his tongue. 'I don't want to be your lover any longer Philippe, just your friend, nothing more.'

'I know Hélène. Forgive me. Guilt washes over me and I lose myself between the past and the present. It is shock and grief which has changed me. Someday I hope it will be for the better. In the meantime, what do you think of Kayleah?'

They went on to discuss the events of the day and the best way in which Hélène could provide support for the budding artiste. Kayleah had been enchanted by the encounter with Hélène. She seemed uncertain about the choices she should make but Hélène reassured her with a simple honest assessment.

'Listen Cherie, you have a beautiful voice and exceptional gift for writing. If you put them together in a way that will showcase your talents you will make a success of your career. I know as a singer, I would love to record your songs. Go home and think about it. If you would like my help, it would please me to guide you a little.'

She recounted those words to Philippe, who smiled his thanks.

'You have a remarkable way of getting through to people.'

Hélène longed to add _'but not to the ones who mattered'. _Instead she held her tongue. It had been a good day and she didn't want to spoil it by being maudlin.

* * *

At home Vladimir had waited patiently to pass on a message to Hélène. He was also eager to hear about how the day went. He hoped that a successful interview with Kayleah and a new direction would help to remove some of the restlessness from his life partner. The smiling faces he greeted at the door were reassuring.

Alejandro Zamora, Terry's father, had called to inquire about Hélène. He offered to take them all out for dinner but Vladimir knew that he didn't really want the company of two old men. Vladimir pleaded fatigue and promised to pass on the message to the guest. Hélène, in contrast, was flattered by the invitation. There was nothing about the Mexican man which would prevent her from enjoying an evening in his company. He spoke her language fluently and he was gracious and elegant.

Vladimir studied Philippe's face but saw nothing to worry him. Both of them gave their wholehearted blessing to the evening out.

Hélène excused herself from the men and went to shower and change into a beautiful Cordell frock which was subtly alluring. The colours set off her gray hair and lightly tanned skin. Just as she had appeared on the night of the party, her trim figure looked youthful and suited the black sheath dress with a mixed lace and gathered material sweetheart bodice and straight skirt. She looked like a mature 1940's movie star. A double row of pearls fit loosely around her neck. There was no evidence of the stooping so common to aging women. As a singer, Hélène was required to exercise daily to ensure that her chest and neck muscles could support the voice and breathing requirements. Light makeup took ten years off her age and gave her evening escort a jolt of desire he hadn't felt in years.

Alejandro, who hated driving, hired a car to take them into LA. Mexican style restaurants were a dime a dozen but he knew which one would serve the best of his favourite foods and give him a chance to share a little of his culture with Philippe's charming guest. Their unique circumstance of burying a child, drew them together in a way that most parents would never know or understand.

'This is such a lovely place Alejandro. Is it one of your favourites?

'Yes, I come here often. Theresa cooks to please Jason but the food is not always to my taste. I prefer the dishes of my homeland. Easier to digest,' he added patting his stomach, well aware that many others would disagree.

'I understand. Since I have not done much traveling, I have been stuck in my own way of cooking. It has been a treat to be out of Montreal for awhile.' Her look was wistful. 'Seeing the sunshine every day is such a change from the damp and depressing November weather at home.'

'Do you have to go back?'

'My children and grandchildren are…..' She could not finish and ended on a shrug. Her relationship with them was strained but she had no wish to spoil the evening complaining. She left him with the impression that she missed them.

Hélène tried to smile often. She looked directly at Alejandro when she spoke and when he responded. Like the student Kayleah, he was enchanted by her inclusiveness. She had a good appetite, appreciated each dish with childish delight and drank wine as one should. The dinner passed with little conversation until the mariachi band began its stroll around the restaurant. The group of men stopped at the table. The leader nodded before playing a lovely haunting song known mostly to people of the baby boomer generation. Hélène shook her head and hummed softly.

'I wanted to ask you if you would sing this the other night but as I had only one choice….'

'Can you play it again from the beginning please?' she asked the man who appeared to be the leader.

He obliged with a smile. Hélène sang softly, again bringing tears to the eyes of her dinner companion. Alejandro offered a tip to the group before returning his attention to Hélène.

'Was that your wife's favourite?'

'Yes. Caterina was never physically strong but she loved music. She passed away a little before Mario. I thought I would not survive the loss of both but somehow we carry on. You did not tell me about your husband. You are not together?'

'No. He was a cruel man, who hurt and abused the daughter I had with Philippe. His behaviour caused her to leave home. As far as I know he wasn't directly involved in her death but his actions did precipitate it.'

'My dear lady, what a terrible experience for you! He was punished I hope?'

'No. It is nearly impossible to put men like this behind bars for their crimes against women. Philippe is angry but feels powerless to do anything at this point in his life. _Revenge is never sweet_ he says _although its desire for action lingers in my heart_.

'I don't like to admit that he may be right. The driver who inadvertently killed my son is not behind bars either but what can I do?'

Hélène reached across the dinner table and took the hand of the man in front of her. 'We hold on to our faith and pray.'

Before long, the tables were cleared and patrons had an opportunity to dance. Alejandro, who was a superb dancer requested the pleasure of a turn on the floor. Hélène was inclined to back away. Her voice was the gift. On the dance floor she was less certain but her dinner partner put her at ease and she followed his footsteps quite well.

From the day of her marriage to the moment she rested her hand on Alejandro's shoulder, Hélène had not felt a moment of delight nor pride in being a woman. In one evening, she became transformed from the serving maid into a Cinderella at the ball. Perhaps Alejandro would be her prince and perhaps not, but the day brought her untold comfort.

'You know Hélène,' he whispered as they circled the floor slowly sometime later, 'there is something so familiar about you. You are not at all like my wife, except perhaps in stature but you remind me so much of someone I have met recently and yet I cannot place the connection.'

'Ne t'inquiète pas. J'aime à comparaître comme moi-même. Toutefois, si tu te souviens qui conteste votre mémoire, faites le moi savoir.'*****

'**Oui, Hélène.'**

Much later, after a delightful evening, Alejandro drove back up into the hills to escort his 'date' home. The European peck on both cheeks was followed by a gentle kiss of thanks for a wonderful evening. Hélène floated to her bed. The men had long since retired. In any case she had no desire to do anything except settle for the night with dreams of what might have been in another time and place.

**New York**

Catherine stood at the bedside and watched her husband sleep. Nearly a week of worry about the water overflow below had taken a huge toll on his health and sense of wellbeing. Vincent was feverish and restless. The concern for his welfare put all other thoughts out of her head. She was shocked by the filthy unkempt man who staggered through the front door in the early hours of the morning. Catherine had guided him downstairs to the walk-in bathroom and scrubbed him free of the dirt and grime which clung to his body. With all the tenderness in the world, she removed the stained and muddy clothes before using the shower hose to wash away the layers of sand and dirt which clung to his skin.

Catherine soaped and massaged his tender scalp, cutting away some knots from his hair which would not budge. As soon as he was in warm clothes, she put him to bed, before encouraging him to drink a little from a bowl of plain soup. Vincent could hardly get down a few mouthfuls before he was asleep.

The opportunity to care for the man who did so much for her was a blessing. Vincent would never have allowed her to take on any additional strain under normal circumstances, but he had done even more for her in the past. The stress and worry of Vincent's anguished state had taken away all thought of other events in her life, past and present. She knew they would have to be revisited but for the moment she was content to nurse her beloved husband back to health. In the past he had shown remarkable resilience. Catherine prayed that it would be no different.

When his sickness had prevented him saving her life, she realized that he had special needs. In the past, there was no treatment which could alleviate his symptoms. Whatever passed through him had to run its course. She hoped with all her heart that he would not suffer now as he had then.

At that time she had been fearful of getting too close to the man who held her heart. They had not been intimate and yet her love for him had been so strong. She tried to infuse some love into his body but he could not overcome the madness and violence which threatened everything including their relationship.

Vincent had taken himself away from her and his family below. It was Catherine who had gone after him and it was there in the tunnel cave that Jacob was conceived. How bittersweet that time had been. Catherine was fully aware of their coupling but Vincent had no knowledge of it and didn't know of his son's conception or birth until the moment of her death. Catherine now knew that Jacob had the video recording of the event and she longed to see it but kept her promise to wait until the men were home. In this moment of reliving those events nearly twenty five years ago, Catherine was unsure if she wanted to even see the horror of it. Instead she removed her house coat and crept in bed determined to offer every comfort to Vincent..

Unlike the similar event years ago, the weary husband, distressed beyond belief, rolled over into the arms of his wife and sobbed himself to sleep releasing days of pent up worry.

* * *

Upstairs, Jacob also returned to his worried wife. Due to the excessive rain, a large boulder had been dislodged from above, blocking and rerouting the usual channels of water, directing it into the space utilized by the tunnel community. Father and son had finally agreed to tackle the problem head on. They climbed up into a passage against the current to try and push the boulder out of the way and release the back up which was overflowing dangerously close to the anxious families below. It was dangerous and dirty work but necessary.

There was no other way to save their home. A full evacuation of everyone would have been nearly impossible. With the guidance of Mouse and some ingenuity and help from above, Vincent and Jacob had scaled the side of the waterfall and pushed back against the water flow in order to dislodge the big boulder. It would have taken eight men of strength to be successful. The prospect felt daunting to everyone except the two men who possessed extraordinary power.

'I don't know how you did it Jacob. The side of that waterfall is so dangerous.'

'I don't' either. Dad was amazing. For his age…he….'

Jacob was overcome by the near miss and fell silent. The welcoming warmth of his wife was enough to dispel any melodrama from the event. Despite his extreme fatigue, Jacob felt a need to talk. He was curious about the world above which he eventually had to abandon while they tackled the situation below.

'Kurt didn't bug me on Friday to see what was happening so I guess they managed at the office. On the home front, I do have to tell you that your mother knows about the tapes and she wants to see them when you and Dad recover.'

'Diana?'

'Yes, Mom was insistent.' Jacob found a chuckle from somewhere inside.

'Cilla got her first A in school for an assignment.'

'Brilliance runs in the family.'

'And I decided to get to know my father better.'

From the list, Jacob decided that he wanted to know more about Cathy's search for information about her father.

'I finally looked in the box that Edgar had given me. You know I put it away thinking it was just pages and pages of family trees, but there was a whole section dedicated to Frederick and Edgar Jr. I didn't know my father was an architect. He saved pictures and documented articles about buildings which he found fascinating. One of them was a place called The Empress Theatre. The style of it fits into the story of your origins Jacob.'

'You mean the Egyptian Cat People?'

'Yes. I don't know whether he loved it because of its external design or because the inside was planned and executed by a famous American designer but it seemed to draw Frederick. During the 70's and 80's it was used to show that famous stage play, The Rocky Horror Show. Both the building and the show were weird, just like my father.'

'You don't sound so angry about him Cathy.'

'You know Jacob, I am not so much. I always wondered if he ever loved anything. To know that he was interested in architecture, had two degrees and was willing to travel so far to pursue his passion, well, I can't hate him as much as I used to. I don't know how but my next step is to see what, if anything he had to do with either the building or the show.'

'Sounds like a plan,' Jacob decreed with a big yawn. 'How far do we have to go?'

'Montreal! You know, in Canada.'

Cathy smiled into the inky night. Jacob's even breathing told her that he had fallen asleep. She thought about the adventure ahead. Perhaps they could go to Montreal in the spring after the winter. It would be fun to just drive north and spend some time alone. Perhaps she was meant to physically pursue her dreams rather than waiting for the story to come to her. Content by the return of her husband and a small plan for the future, she fell asleep.

* * *

*_'Don't worry. I like to appear just like myself. However, if you remember who challenges your memory, let me know.'_


	13. Chapter 13

Blunt XIII

Vincent lay still in the bed. He was aware of everything going on around him. The pounding of his blood through arteries felt like thunder. The venous return could not have been much more fierce than the falls at Niagara. Every little sound rippled through his body targeting energy points. Even Catherine's whispered voice tore through him.

Vincent knew he was reaching a moment of catharsis. His need, to express or release the stress and confusion of the past weeks, bubbled up inside. He was fearful of its outcome. The last time he lost control was horrible. It cost him dearly. Catherine disappeared from his life. Vincent struggled to suppress the urge to cry out by initiating a gentle rocking motion. He let his mind wander, allowing a controlled recall of the events, checking to ensure that he had done everything right.

While he was below, Vincent had focused his attention on finding a way to redirect flow from above. First they had to find the source of the problem then come up with a plan to shift the boulder which had dislodged under pressure from the heavy rain. Every fibre of every muscle strained to shift the rock from an odd angle. When Mouse was able to identify an alternate but dangerous route, he felt there was no choice but to take it. It meant scaling a wet and slippery wall before entering a water channel scarcely large enough to hold a human adult. Having to move against a fast flowing current compounded the risk.

Always at the back of his mind was the knowledge that Catherine was struggling with issues from her past. He felt her anxiety on the periphery of his senses but his instinct told him that she would and could seek help. For the community below, the flooding water was a life and death event and one which needed his full attention. Jacob's arrival added support to solving the task ahead but increased his worry. If both were to perish then who would be left to care for their wives.

Vincent could recall many times in the past two decades when he would have wished himself dead so as to rejoin his soul mate. Fortunately, death did not find him but Catherine did. After the sweetness of the three years since her return he would have fought any battle to cheat the death. He and Jacob made their way along the narrow passage in hopes of reaching either an air pocket or the boulder before their breath ran out. He prayed as he had never done before.

The air pocket came first, then the superhuman effort to release the boulder. In the end, he could only cling to his son and shed some tears of relief. The build-up of tension did not leave him so easily however and now as he lay supine, highly sensitized to any sound or movement; he wondered what would come next.

'Vincent, have some soup.' The gentle voice sounded like thunder in his ears. He shook his head tentatively but did not open his eyes. The motion set his insides churning. He sensed his anxious wife come closer. Her sweet energy washed over him but could not dowse the rising rage.

'No.' The single word was almost imperceptible.

Catherine heard it and tiptoed out of the room. She was worried. The memory of his previous lapse into temporary madness was more fresh in her mind than she cared to admit. She knew there was little help available. Her plan was to wait. Last time it was their physical love which help him to overcome the tension within. She hoped he would not only acknowledge the emotional ledge but turn to her for release and allow their renewed love to raise him above the beastly nature which always lurked below the surface.

Through the night, as she held him close, his heat and restlessness drove her to distraction. She could not cool his feverish brow nor get him to settle. Towards the early hours of the morning, she left the bed and sat in the chair by the window, watching his every move, praying for his safety.

She heard Jacob and Cathy leave the house just as the sun was coming up. She said nothing. Catherine wondered if Vincent had ever experienced another episode like the one she saw so many years ago. She had no wish to relive the horror of it, nor the cost. She was determined to set aside her own needs and focus on providing Vincent with the will to overcome. Since her husband was rarely ever ill, she never considered that a doctor might be needed. Catherine hoped it was just a matter of soothing his troubled soul. At least in her heart, she hoped that it would be nothing more.

* * *

'Brrrrr. It's cold. Can you tell me again what we're doing out here this early?'

'I'm sorry KitCat. I just needed to be above ground and outside in the fresh air.'

'I'm sorry too, Jacob. It's so easy to forget what you just went through. Let's move a little faster. I'm sure I'll soon warm up.'

The young couple held hands and picked up the pace of their walk. It was early on a Sunday morning. The area was not yet overrun with traffic but the sun had just come up. Like his father, Jacob slept fitfully but by early morning he settled into a restful sleep and woke refreshed far too early. Cathy wasn't really game to get up and walk but she had missed his company and refused to stay in bed without him. They chose to walk and eventually agreed to stop and have a breakfast at a deli not too far away, where fresh, piping hot, croissants were being served along with fresh meats, fruits and coffee.

'These are delicious,' Jacob mumbled. His chin was a flaky mess. He certainly had a good appetite after the walk.

'You look like a two year old. Come here. Let me clean you up.'

The couple joked and fed each other, smiling and oblivious to the other patrons who could tell when two people were in love.

'I feel human again!' Jacob declared with a huge sigh, before getting serious. 'Cathy, I am so proud of you. I didn't think you would ever take another look at your father.'

'I didn't either. He certainly was a complex character in my life. I really know so little about him.'

'I think I might have missed some things you told me last night. Was there anything….. ?'

Cathy thought the apologetic shrug was adorable and opted not to tease her husband for failing to pay attention.

'Not really. Did you hear the part about Montreal?'

'Yes. I'd love to make that trip with you but we don't have to wait for spring.'

Jacob was suddenly still. Cathy knew he had picked up on a wave of energy which was disturbing.

'Is there a problem below?' she asked.

'It's my Dad. He's struggling with anxiety.'

'Do we need to go?'

'My Mom's going to call me. I know something which will help him. Sue can put it together. We don't have to leave.'

Sure enough, within the half hour, Catherine called her son. She didn't sound frantic but there was an element of fear. Jacob reassured her that the problem was temporary.

'Jacob, I have been through this with him before. It caused everything…. everything! He lost himself and me and you. I don't want that to happen again.'

'Mama, please listen. Dad will be fine. Put Sue on the line. I'll explain what she needs to make and you can give it to him. He'll take it. If he doesn't, I'll come home.' Jacob was adamant but not unkindly.

The budding holistic practitioner knew that the one thing which gave his father superhuman strength was an overactive adrenal gland. In the 'fight and flight' world of the jungle, animals needed adrenaline to survive. Life in the civilized world was different. Jacob knew that when his father needed to release that energy in his body, he could do so to maintain a sustained effort. Vincent did not, however, possess the ability to shut it down easily. Waves of energy from the hormone continued to course through his body, urging him to run or fight. Neither was an option now that the problem in the tunnel had been resolved. His son had already intuited that information from his father's weakened body.

Jacob initially created the herbal antidote primarily for himself when he first returned from California and began sensing his own strength. Growing up he rarely saw his father get angry or have to fight external forces. Who his father was, had never been a concern. Since living above, Jacob found he had better control of his own reactions and hadn't needed the preparation. What he did require for his own wellbeing was the long walk with his wife to settle the tension in his body. His father didn't have that luxury. He quickly explained to Sue what was needed and asked her to call him back if there was no change.

Satisfied with the temporary plan, Jacob reassured his worried wife before returning to the subject of her burgeoning interest in Frederick. In this instance, because the past overlapped the present, the paper trail was a much better way for her to discover the truth than dreams. To his surprise, she resisted asking him anything, giving herself the opportunity to discover who she was through her own initiative.

They walked and talked for so long before either realized that they were almost uptown. It was clear to Jacob that her Google skills had been invaluable in giving context to the period of time in which Frederick was most active in his profession and the theatre world. He listened as she talked about the architect of The Empress Theatre. He had been American. What drew him and Frederick to the place in Montreal was a mystery which she was determined to solve. Cathy wondered if her father had a relationship with someone in the Canadian city which was more kind to same sex couples. The idea of solving a mystery seemed to fire up her enthusiasm.

'Cathy, did you ever think you may have joined the public defender's office because you secretly wanted to be an investigator?'

'If I did, I would have joined the police. I like the human mystery Jacob. We don't watch TV now but police shows are boring to me. My thing is Criminal Minds.'

Jacob laughed and pulled his wife closer. 'No matter how many skills I possess, you still manage to say things which both surprise me and make me love you more.

* * *

Hélène, are you up early or perhaps...?'

'I'm flattered that you think I could still have the energy to be up all night but no, the sunrise on this coast is different and far too lovely to miss. Why are you up?' she asked without looking at him.

'I struggle to sleep. Our daughter calls me.'

The pain in his voice forced Hélène to turn away from her contemplation of the distant ocean. She sat huddled in one of the lounge chairs located on the outdoor patio she had come to love. She showed no surprise at his words. 'What does she tell you?'

'Mostly, it's about regret for opportunities not taken . At times her energy seems so old, at others, very youthful. I sometimes wonder what she would be like, had she grown to adulthood. Do you?'

'Yes, I see her growing. The priest told me that some people would see their deceased child age, but for others they would be frozen in time. I wanted her to grow. She had so much life. It was hard to believe she was dead.'

Philippe nodded and took a seat on another chair. He was just beginning to feel some of the emotional pain which must have wracked Hélène's body for years.

She returned his look, sensing the bond between them yet knowing that it was a temporary phase. 'I think that I must go soon, mon ami. My children will wonder if I will be there for Christmas. I don't want to impose. Vladimir has been very kind.'

'Hélène, never think that your presence here is an imposition. You are part of our family now. Anyway, it's too soon. Thursday is Thanksgiving. Jason and Terry would like us to be there. Then there's Kayleah... she... needs you. ' After a long pause, 'I need you, just a little longer.'

'Philippe, I don't want to stay so long that all this...loveliness becomes hard to let go. You saw my life. I must go back there and be happy again.'

'Alejandro?'

'He is a gentleman, but I can't allow myself to be seduced by his kindness.'

They fell silent. Philippe longed for something but he was unsure if it was a return to the past or release from the future, which somehow seemed bleak. He knew how lucky he had been. He was a successful business man, enjoyed a relationship of strength in a world which did not support him or his partner and yet he floundered.

'Two more weeks, please? I will return with you. There is something I must do and i want to see you safely home.'

Philippe didn't expand on his cryptic statement. Hélène knew better than to push. In truth, she didn't want to leave. For the first time in years, she felt at peace. It had little to do with the men in her life, or even the opportunity to work with Kayleah. The healing energy of the view, the fresh air and the chance to share her grief all helped to heal the aching heart. It was to Alejandro that she sought support and understanding for her loss. She had been grateful for it but her child's father needed a comfort only she could provide, as he found his own way through the newness of unrelenting sorrow.

The pair sat for a long time. Conversation ebbed and flowed until Hélène fell asleep. She woke sometime later to find herself alone. A covered glass of juice was placed on a small table by her side. A light blanket covered her legs. She smiled at his thoughtfulness.

During the course of the day, Alejandro called to inquire. Hélène assured him that she enjoyed her evening out and thanked him again for inviting her. They rang off with the promise of another 'date' after the Thanksgiving dinner. In the meantime, Hélène spent the rest of the day sharing time with Philippe and Vladimir, discussing the hopeful conversion of Kayleah from mediocre Rap performer to singer/songwriter/artiste.

Thanksgiving held no special meaning for Hélène who already celebrated the Canadian version in October. The reappearance of Philippe into her life was enough thanks to last a lifetime. She was cognizant of the importance of the day for Americans. Despite missing her own children and grandchildren, she was looking forward to enjoying the company of Philippe's family again. Seeing Alejandro was only a small part of the happiness of her day.

Little Laddie was as drawn to her as anyone else. The toddler was engaging. He spoke a mixture of English and Spanish. Hélène who was used to a bilingual environment, laughed often at his antics. She observed with amusement his movements between the overwhelming surfeit of men in his life. Clearly his relationship with each of them was unique.

Dinner was delightful. A mixture of all cultures was evident in the array of dishes surrounding a massive turkey sitting in the middle of the table. Apparently Jason was the architect of the golden brown and highly decorated bird. The family was joined by some of his team members who were single and a couple of neighbours living nearby. Food and laughter threaded its way throughout the afternoon and early evening. The easy going lifestyle of the California community was infectious.

After dinner Terry sought out Hélène. They hadn't really spent any time together but Alejandro spoke highly of her and Terry, sensing her father's deepening interest, decided to explore the nature of the woman who could capture his attention.

'I won't lie to you Hélène. I am curious about you. You have done something no one else has done since my mother died.`

`Your father is a delightful man of the world. He is charming but I am sure you know this already.`

`Yes of course. But he`s my father and I love him. He can do no wrong for me.'

'He spoke of your mother. Her life was an amazing adventure.'

'Yes. I am sorry that she didn't get to see me married and become a mother myself. Well it was really the other way around but she would have been happy for me anyway.'

'I am sure she would have been happy for you but I thought her death was fairly recent.'

'So is my marriage.' Terry went on to explain the unique circumstances of her relationship and subsequent marriage to Jason. 'Would you like to see my wedding pictures?' she inquired hopefully. Terry would never tire of reliving her wonderful day to anyone who would listen.

'Oh yes...were you married here on the beach?'

'That's kind of a California stereotype I suppose. No, that idea didn't fly with family who live all over the world. I got married in Saugerties in upper New York State.'

Hélène's face changed immediately. Terry was quick to apologize. 'I am so sorry. I had forgotten what the area means to you.'

'Oh please. I am surprised by what would connect you to the area, nothing more. It seems so far from here but I remember now that Sandy said her brother lived in the area. Come, let me see the photos. I can't imagine how wonderful the day must have been.'

Arm in arm, the two women went inside. Terry found the albums and set them out for Hélène. There were numerous sighs, oohs and ahhhs as photos of the day appeared on page after page while the story unfolded.

'Mon Dieu! Regardez comme il est beau sur son cheval !' she exclaimed. Everyone laughed at the French outburst. Hélène apologized before saying, 'you know I come from Canada, the land of Mounted Police. I love a man in a uniform. And the music. My daughter would have loved this.'

'That's it,' Alejandro interjected suddenly. 'You remind me of that young lady who is married to Catherine's son. I have forgotten her name. You are closer to her Theresa. What do you think?'

Terry shrugged. She thought of her young friend and the life she lived. To her, the pain of living under day to day stress would have been something which connected the two women more than any hair colouring or facial features. 'Hard to tell, just from photos,' she compromised, surprisingly unwilling to engage in any speculation.

Everyone looked at Hélène and the photo of Cathy smiling with Jacob. All except for Philippe, they agreed there was a superficial resemblance before moving on to the rest of the photos. The love between bride and groom was so obvious no one wanted to be distracted from the memories of the event.

The day would not have been complete without some musical interlude. Everyone agreed that Hélène had done enough. Jason and his father pulled out the guitars and played an array of songs including some traditional Russian folk music which Vladimir had learned from his parents. It was lovely. As Hélène sat and listened, she realized that Terry and Alejandro sat together listening to father and son. Only she and Philippe had no child to share a moment like that, but she allowed Madeleine's memories to wash over her. Visions of the many times when she and her daughter used to play together on the piano filled her eyes with tears. She was so sorry that Philippe never had that opportunity.

Hearty applause followed the performance. Everyone thought that had been the best mini recital ever performed between father and son. In the most sensitive way, Hélène was encouraged to talk about sharing music with her children. With Philippe's nod she talked about their daughter, laughing at how different they had been in musical styles.

'Didn't she like your cultural music?' Alejandro inquired.

'Oh no, we didn't fight over culture. We fought over style. Madeleine was all about the Beatles, whose music was delicious to sing but her ideal vehicle would have been music theatre. She loved to perform and called herself an artist. On the other hand, my daughter called me a hillbilly because I loved country music which I found delightfully soulful. The conversation veered off into styles amid much more laughter.

It was very late when Vladimir called a halt. Two things brought him to attention; the late hour and the ongoing silence of his partner. Somewhere during the course of the evening, Philippe lost his animation. He fell silent and said nothing more. Vladimir didn't know what was wrong but the quiet was deafening.

At the door, Alejandro, cornered Hélène and whispered to her. 'Spend the day with me tomorrow. It would give me great pleasure to show you a few places which you might enjoy. Everyone else will be shopping.' At her nod, they agreed on a time before sharing a kiss on each cheek and a hug.

On the way home Philippe said nothing. Something had been triggered within him. Pictures of the wedding brought back memories of his delightful new friend Cathy. He never knew what generated his response to her. When she came to the fence and stood beside him, it was as if she had triggered a cascade of emotions around his family, his time in Montreal and the losses of his life. He didn`t know what it was about her which drew him. _Did fate somehow know he would experience all this change?_

Hélène had been tired but he asked to speak with her a little before bed. The evening was chilly and they elected to stay indoors, next to a chimea which gave off a gentle heat.

'Hélène, did you ever consider the possibility that somehow Madeleine survived?' he blurted out unsure of the source of his anxiety.

The verbal arrow which pierced her heart tore through to her very soul. She had been down that emotional route already. It was called denial. There had been plenty of that to go around. Guy had made it so easy for her to live in denial. She wanted no more of that.

'No Philippe. I can never go there again. She did not survive.'


	14. Chapter 14

Blunt XIV

`You are so very quiet Querida. Que paso? ` Slim, lightly tanned, fingers reached across the dinner table to capture her hand.

Hélène sighed deeply. She had not been the best companion. Alejandro deserved better. In response to his question she felt too old to prevaricate and play '_I can't talk about it' _games. The troubled woman looked directly at her companion and clearly stated what was on her mind.

'I am at odds with Philippe.'

'I thought so'. The smile and wholly Latino shrug were endearing. 'If you want to share, I am also a good listener.'

'Oh Alejandro, you are so kind. Philippe is too, but I don't understand what he hopes to achieve by believing that our daughter may still be alive.'

'Hélène, you must remember that this is all new to him.'

'But she has been dead for so many years. Who does it serve to believe something... so impossible?`

`Tell me something, ' he coached softly, 'when you first heard about her death, how long did it take for you to accept that she was gone?'

'Oh so long. I cried myself to sleep for years. It was only my other children and their needs which pulled me out of my grief every day.'

'You know Hélène, Philippe has nothing, except work, to lessen the impact of this news. He is simply in a state of shock. He must endure that same process of grief, even if it raises your own to a new level.'

'Am I doing the same to you?'

'No Querida. Never! I have dealt with my losses in my own way. However, I understand what you are both feeling. Philippe has Vladimir. You have me.'

Hélène smiled her thanks because words would have been difficult. When Madeleine died there was no one who could provide her with comfort. Guy was overcome with guilt and useless to her.

Alejandro was right. He was present and sympathetic. Yet, a part of her firmly believed that Philippe's thoughts were taking him in a different and unrealistic direction. They were not a couple and would never be on the same page. Neither was at fault. In their revealing discussion the previous night, the intense appeal for understanding came from his soul. She tried to ignore the pleading in his voice but even if there was a possibility that Madeleine survived, why hadn't she come home in twenty five years? Hélène could find no reason why her daughter would not have contacted at least one person in the family.

She tried to suppress an involuntary chuckle which rose in her throat. Philippe, after all, had taken almost forty-two years to come home. _Like father, like daughter! Could it be possible?_

'Did I detect some humour?'

'Yes, I am laughing at myself. I need to be more accepting of his pain.'

Hélène and Alejandro had been talking while enjoying the last of their delicious seafood dinner at a circular restaurant overlooking the ocean. The view from the wrap-around windows was so spectacular that the tasty dishes were almost secondary to the beautiful, breath taking waves crashing on the shoreline. The couple spent most of the day driving to various sights of interest in and around LA. It had been a lovely outing and one in which Hélène struggled to be bright and cheerful, but her memories of the late night conversation with Philippe intruded at every turn. Talking with Alejandro helped to put things into perspective.

She wondered what he had in mind for the rest of the evening. The activities he had arranged for the day were very much to her liking. It would be hard to top the excitement of seeing places she had only heard about. To her surprise, he shyly asked her to join him in a long walk. They passed the beautiful twilight hours on the beach walking hand in hand. _'So I am to experience at least one California stereotype'_ she concluded happily. Hélène felt as if she was fulfilling a sequence of events in which she lived a life previously known to her, in dreams only. She savoured every moment knowing that she would soon have to give it all up.

...

Philippe paced up and down. The patio stones felt uneven beneath his bare feet. He neither noticed the chill in the air, nor the sharp edges. Dangling from his fingers was the necklace that once adorned the neck of his mother and his daughter. The sensations which coursed through his fingers, shocked him. He stopped pacing and allowed his body to receive what he understood to be messages.

Nothing in his experience prepared him for the awakening of the natural gift of extra sensory perception. In all his years, Philippe struggled against the calling of his soul. Music had always opened doors into his psyche but Philippe steadfastly refused to walk where his intellectual self could not take him. Whatever possibilities existed within him, he shut that door firmly when his father took away his birthright and forbid any contact with his mother and siblings. He found his solace in music production, a resource which was concrete and one which he could live and breathe.

His gaze reached out to the past, through the inky night sky. Visions came into view. A disembodied voice, which created visual thought was that of his mother.

From out of the wind whistling in the distance he saw swirls. Nothing made sense to his eyes but imagination brought form to his thought. In the vision, he saw a man, who seemed to fly through the night sky landing unceremoniously on the green land of his mother's ancestors. If he looked closely, the face resembled his own. Everything about the blond giant was like looking at an enlarged reflection of himself. He stood frozen, as images of a dark haired beauty and the stranger from the sky mated to produce the line of family, he knew as his own.

Slowly the images melded and reformed showing generation after generation. Sometimes the standout image was golden and sometimes the dark side prevailed. He knew each one of them contained the same DNA which comprised his own body.

Philippe had always known that somewhere inside he possessed the skill to intuit the past and the future. For sure, it did not come from his father, a cut and dried business man, whose ethereal wife managed to soften some of his rough edges. Camille Gardener brought all the history and mythology of her Celtic heritage to the uptight regal estate of the DeLané family in Belgium. Philippe wondered how he would have fared in life if he remained in Belgium or returned there after living in Montreal. Had he stayed at home, he wondered if his father's will would override his natural inclinations or would he have been allowed to make magic with music, just as his mother had done? He doubted it. Philippe couldn't take a chance on losing himself. He would have yearned to use sound and song and be able to '_walk the path of the Devas'_, as his mother often said.

Philippe knew that he feared that intuitive power, wondering what it would reveal about him and his sexuality. In the face of his father's rigid attitudes towards public roles and private rules, he felt fearful of expressing himself in any way other than music. Philippe Sr. had never been abusive or unkind, just uncompromising forcing his son to make a heartbreaking choice.

In allowing the range of thought and insight to have the freedom long denied, Philippe opened his heart and mind to possibilities. Uppermost was the need to find his daughter, because he believed that she did not die. On that thought came the memory of Terry's words.

'Talk to Jacob', she had said.

Philippe left the palette of the inky sky with its twinkling stars and crescent moon behind and went into the study. He didn't call Jacob right away. Instead he booked the next flight out to New York. If Jacob had answers then they were to be found in New York and not California. To Vladimir and Hélène he would be taking a trip to assess a new client, leaving Hélène to work with Kayleah. A search for the truth was his real mission and he did not intend to return until the mission was accomplished.

...

Catherine found it easy to watch over her husband. His beautiful face, both timeless and ageless, was quiet. The memory of an horrific past, which she found hard to dismiss, faded at each hour that he slept. The minute his eyes began to flutter she encouraged him to drink Jacob's herbal concoction. The green liquid, seemed to do the trick. The restlessness was subdued and the rage which Catherine hoped never to see again, seemed to leave his body.

Vincent had slept fairly peacefully that first night and now he was getting into the second day. It seemed that absolute quiet was necessary to allow his beastly spirit to be quelled.

Catherine sighed. Jacob had explained it all when he and Cathy came home the previous day. Catherine couldn't digest the details of how a body system functioned inside and out. The information was beyond her experience. She did understand the need for the adrenal glands to resume a normal function within the body. At first she had been upset that her son did not return home immediately. It took some time for her to realize that Jacob also needed an outlet for the same build up of energy.

Just as he promised, within twenty four hours, Vincent's body seemed to return to normal. Catherine slept peacefully beside him through the night. In the morning, she rose early and kept watch, waiting for her husband to resume his awareness of things around him. She remembered during the last episode he suffered a temporary loss of memory. She hoped that he would not forget any detail which was important in their day to day life.

A small table was placed at the end of the bed and there she sat, reading and reviewing the papers from the social committee. Catherine had balked at being thwarted by her enforced confinement. The side of her which needed to get back into the investigative part of her work pulled against the need to care for her husband. She compromised by watching Vincent recover while working at the makeshift desk in the bedroom. Sue and Cathy kept watch over Mea.

In the peace and quiet of the bedroom, what she could see was the hand of fate guiding her towards a better assessment of the problems associated with the committee. She could find no creditable outline for contributions, donors, outlay of funds or program development. Enough money came in to support several programs within the community but who were the donors. Surely those who donated money wanted to have tax receipts. No one gave something for nothing….unless….?

Catherine didn't want to think about the 'unless'. It was frightening to suspect that the money coming in was from one or two donors who were looking for an outlet for illegal money laundering. It seemed that they used the committee to channel funds to other sources. Catherine wondered if anyone in the group really looked at the books. Even though she wasn't an accountant she had enough sense to see that the process was all wrong. What did not surprise her was the fact that where supervision was required, the chairperson failed to ensure the proper process was in place for simple matters of debit and credit.

Catherine reasoned and concluded that Susana and at least one or two other members must be aware of the discrepancy. She also wondered if the accounting firm was being given accurate information.

Her heart started pounding. Thoughts ran back and forth. She sat up straight in her chair pushing the books away from her and tried to relax. The last thing she wanted was to wake Vincent who would know in a heart beat that her excitement wasn't about him. It was already too late it seemed. The voice of her husband mumbled from beneath the covers.

'Catherine, please stop looking at those papers. Come and stay with me.'

'You need rest. It's the middle of the day, Vincent.'

'I need you beside me.'

Catherine sighed and went to join her husband. She was sure it was simply loneliness which prompted him to call out to her. She soon realized that it was not and smiled as she snuggled beneath the covers.

...

Jacob sat at his desk. He forced himself to sit quietly when every part of him wanted action. He wanted to leave work and go below for awhile to ensure that all was well. Jacob waited, knowing that something of importance was driving his restlessness. Another day off would have been helpful but the department was swamped with work and Kurt was balking with any unnecessary delays. Even with the superhuman effort of Jacob's assistance, there was always a surfeit of cases waiting. One thing that the new Director promised was to reduce wait times getting cases to court. It was certainly much better than it had been, but hold-ups were frustrating for clients and defenders.

Kurt knew Jacob did double the work in half the time and yet the backlog continued. Much as he wanted to be supportive of personal needs, the director couldn't spare his assistant another day. He would have acquiesced if the community below needed him. It was a personal agreement between employer and employee. Being privy to Jacob's other life allowed Kurt to be more sympathetic to time off, in exchange for his exceptional skills.

He knew he was extraordinarily lucky to have Jacob on the defender's team and didn't push too much at the edges. However, with the upcoming holiday season, crime was on the rise. Poor families struggled to get by and the lack of resources led many of them to take chances. Much of the concern centred on domestic abuse and petty theft. The outcome would increase the burden on his already stretched out staff. Kurt was uneasy, but could not explain why. He knew that Jacob was still in his office, working much later than usual. Getting up from behind his desk, he went across the hall and knocked on the door. Before trying to identify his own concerns he inquired about the flooding below to make sure all was well.

'Are you still feeling stressed?' he asked bluntly sitting down in a vacant chair.

'No, I'm over it and so is my Dad. I've got something else on my mind.'

'Is that an invitation for me to ask what?'

'Honestly Oats, you can ask but I am at a loss.'

'Ok, you know yourself pretty well so this isn't about you. Is it your mother?' That question brought out a smile. 'Ok, I like your mother. She is amazing. Shoot me for liking her.'

'You know Boss... it's not about me. My dad might have other ideas if you keep that up.'

Kurt laughed heartily. 'I don't think your very proud father would mind any man who admires your mother. She's one in a million.'

Jacob pondered the comment. 'You are right. He would see it as a part of her gifts. I think I'm the one who is always jealous.'

'Of me?'

'Anyone who loves my mother. Dumb huh?'

'You were without her too long Jacob. It's easy to see how you might feel a sense of ownership but I can also see where marriage has changed you immensely.'

Jacob's face changed at the mention of his marriage. 'My wife is one in a million too.'

'Jacob is there a problem with Cathy? Is that what has you tied up in knots?' The brow of the director knotted with concern.

Jacob took a deep breath, as if he were about to dive into an ocean of sharks. 'Oats, the future doesn't exist. We live in the present. The future becomes the present. Why is it some people can see the future before it happens? I don't know because I don't posses that skill. I don't see the future, but I can see the past and sometimes how it has affected the present.'

'Ok. I think I understand.'

'I want you to be aware of the verb tenses I used. In the past few weeks, I have also learned to see how the past will affect the present. When I live in this state of waiting for the past and present to catch up, I don't know how to live comfortably. I want to hide, like a kid, until the storm passes.' Jacob looked expectantly at his boss. He knew that Kurt was more sensitive than most people realized. The rambling statement was confusing and few would get the gist of the words but Oats had a side of him which allowed openness to ESP.

'So, let me get this right. You have seen something in the past which is going to play out in the present. It will affect Cathy and you are uncertain what her response will be. Because you know the process is underway, you are afraid of letting her see or sense it from you. Is that it?'

'Geez Oats. You are in the right job. I thought it was all about facts for you but it isn't. Clarity is a big part of your skill.'

'Look we all live in two worlds. Work and private are different. This affects Cathy and ...you. I like you both and want to help.'

'Thanks Oats. Just be around. I don't know what Cathy will need in all this. Be her friend if everything falls apart.'

'Can you do anything to protect her?'

'At my peril and hers. The events need to play themselves out.'

Jacob laid his head back and closed his eyes. He wanted to say more but left it there. He surprised even himself with his confidence in Oats. They had become a good working unit. Jacob never crossed the line of behaviour at work but both men understood the nature of their complex relationship.

'Give me a heads up when you need me. In the meantime, how is that pile on your desk? Is it getting any smaller?'

...

Cathy sat back on her heels smiling at the antics of Cilla and Mea. It was fun to have them together again. More often than not, Mea was feeling safe while away from Catherine. The hope was for her to transition to the care of her grandmother Erin and Brian who was her biological uncle. Mea's history and the liver transplant bound her emotionally to the Wells family. She sometimes struggled with separation anxiety during her time away from the Brownstone. Catherine had not been in a hurry to relinquish care of the children. Both girls had been instrumental in pulling their adoptive mother out of a long delayed post partum depression.

Catherine's intervention also saved Mea from certain death. Now that it was clear who their blood relatives were, it was time to effect the full transition. Catherine needed to get on with her own rehab and return to a life which fulfilled her needs. There was unanimous agreement that the girls should be raised by their own flesh and blood. Since Brian provided the portion of liver to save Mea, it was natural that her presence in the family would provide a point of healing for all of them.

More and more, Cathy could see that Mea felt secure in the presence of her natural grandmother. Cilla was drawn to Holly who possessed the same gift of insight as the little girl. Holly would be a wonderful guide through the world of extra sensory perception, a skill which Cathy lacked. She would miss the girls around the house when the transition was complete but she could also see how happy they would be.

The large play area set up in the upstairs of the warehouse/shelter was full of children laughing and playing. They were all clean and well fed. Their mothers were getting help or working industriously at creating clothes under the direction of Erin. Cathy couldn't believe how creative the dressmaker had become since receiving the gift of a small sewing machine. Looking around, she couldn't believe the change in so short a time, but Holly was not a shrinking violet. When she moved forward with something she really pushed until it was done. Holly had the funds and skill to make her way, and a husband who turned his own life around in order to be a good support and father.

Cathy tried not to be sad. Reuniting families was a big part of what made her way happy these days. It was only her own life history which she couldn't reconcile. Her mother Lena and her father Freddy had a jig-saw history. Unfortunately, she could not even find the puzzle pieces to put together. Their relationship was odd. The years between them, the different backgrounds seemed to make them an impossible couple and yet in their mutual sickness they found comfort. For years Cathy had not wanted to think about Frederick Raeburn as anything other than the selfish, self centered man who dominated her mother's sad life.

In her recent conversations with Jacob, Cathy was open to sharing more and more information about her father. As she gleaned little details of his life from various sources, they were showing her a more gentle, aesthetic side of him. Cathy wondered if Frederick was always closed and taciturn or if something happened to change him. The answers may never be available to her. Freddy lived a very secretive life.

Cathy looked up from her contemplation of the children. She could sense Erin approaching and knew she would want to talk about keeping Mea for a few days. Catherine wouldn't mind but Mea might. Erin had changed for the better. Reuniting with her son, having her grandchildren near and living the dream job she had wanted from childhood all served to relax some of the vigilance which characterized her behaviour when Cathy first met her below. She smiled as the proud grandmother approached the children's play area.

'She's such a good girl, don'tcha think?'

'Yes, she's beautiful.' Cathy concurred

'Miss Catherine has given me the greatest gift. These children and my work are my life now.'

'Erin, you are amazing. Not too many women would have been able to make this change after everything you've been through.'

'I've bin lucky. Feels like my time. Makes up for a lot of the bad times.' Erin paused before turning back to face the young woman who helped change her life. 'I hopes you'll be happy soon too, Cathy. After the girls are gone will you be having one of your own?'

The question was surprising. Cathy felt a pang. She would indeed miss the girls but more interesting in that moment was Erin who rarely talked about personal issues.

'I hope to... soon. I am waiting for Holly to give birth then I'll see. Right now, I want to learn more about my Dad.' Cathy didn't know what prompted her to mention Frederick out loud. She sometimes forgot that Erin was married to Edgar Jr., Freddy's brother. 'Did you know him Erin?' she asked on an impulse.

Erin closed her eyes. She breathed deeply. Cathy was almost sorry she asked. There were many memories Erin preferred to forget or had forgotten.

'Freddy was lost like me. He had funny ways. Asked me about clothes all the time. Mr. Raeburn didn't like him. Didn't like me neither.' Erin stopped suddenly and looked directly at Cathy. 'He and your mother was the strangest couple.'

'You saw them together?'

'Before I had my son... your mother...she...she... I don't remember Cathy.' Erin ended with a shrug and made her way over to the play area.

Despite the vague and unfinished sentence, Cathy could have kissed Erin. For the first time in her life, someone referred to her parents as a couple, not as pimp and whore, or john and prostitute. '_Could there have been a time when Freddy actually loved Lena?' Cathy wondered. _She knew that Jacob was able to tell her the truth. All her life she had run away from what the real story might be. Nothing about her parents' relationship ever drove her to seek the facts. Perhaps it was time. She pulled out her cell phone and sent an urgent text to Jacob.

Jacob was making inroads into the pile of case files on his desk when he felt the stirring of his phone's vibration indicating an incoming text message from Cathy. At almost the same moment, he received a phone call. Both came through simultaneously. He didn't answer either.


	15. Chapter 15

By evening, Vincent was back on his feet and feeling well. The smiles and intimate glances with his wife were the sweetest they had shared since their reunion. Sue fixed a simple supper and stayed out of the way. After dinner, Catherine was surprised to receive a call from Jacob explaining that he wouldn't be home for the night. The parents weren't as worried as they might have been. Things below in the tunnels were under control but it was unusual for Jacob not to come home at all . Catherine wondered if she might have missed a special occasion but left her capable son to make his own decisions. It wasn't too long after that Cathy phoned to say Mea would be staying with Erin and she was going to meet with Jacob.

'Something curious is going on with those kids Vincent,' she admitted to her fully recovered husband. They are behaving strangely. I wonder if anything is wrong?'

'Are you asking me or telling me?'

'Not sure. I'm just checking to see if I missed something, an event or a special day. I know we don't celebrate birthdays and other milestones in the same way, but I got a sense of ...?'

'Catherine my love, perhaps they just want to be together.' He received an odd look from his wife.

'Alone then... alone together...in a different place.' Vincent kept responding to her curious glances.

'I can leave them alone. They can be alone here.' The voice was peevish.

'Catherine...is there something worrying you?'

'Yes, well no, not really.' She threw up her hands surprised to find herself close to tears. 'The past week hasn't been easy Vincent. I was very worried about you when you were below and while you were ill. I felt as if we were reliving a nightmare. I have concerns I need to share.' The questions in her eyes were answered with a reassuring glance. 'Diana made me aware of our last time together and how you struggled to save our son. Everything in our lives seems the same but it feels as if I am seeing them with different eyes.'

Vincent gathered his distressed wife into a comforting embrace. 'Let's talk. We'll go below. Not to the tunnels but the basement.'

Despite his recent weakened state, Vincent turned at the top of the stairs and lifted his wife into his arms, carrying her down the steps as if she was as light as a feather. He went directly to the large reclining chairs which created a cozy spot for two. Rather than putting her in a separate chair, Vincent held on to Catherine. Ever since their reunion, cuddling together was the best way for them to feel and experience the best of their love as a couple. Catherine opened her troubled heart to the one man she loved.

'I will be so happy to see the end of this week Vincent. I don't know why I feel so unsettled. I think I must accept that I am growing old.'

'Never my love. Time has spared your beauty and your features in perfection. I have never seen you look more lovely.'

'Oh Vincent you always know the right thing to say. Words never fail you, when I am most troubled and need ...'

'Catherine, your very presence in my life drives the hunger to find words to express what I feel. Every day I think about the ways in which the miracle of you and our son brings me so much happiness. From the first day I met you, everything changed in my life.'

His arms pulled Catherine tightly to him. He buried his nose in her fragrant hair, inhaling the scent of her, allowing it to intoxicate his senses. Vincent refused to think about the wasted years. Their love was as sweet if not better, for the wait. His gentle stroking motions and quiet voice served to calm and settle his wife. Before long she began to speak, sharing with her husband and lover, the information from Diana as well as her troubling findings related to the committee work.

'I don't know whether I will be able to deal with any of those things Vincent. It requires stamina to fight against an illegal conglomerate of people who seem to be doing the right thing. I am not at the DA's office any more. I have no backing and no authority to take action. Do I really want to take this on?'

'The moving pictures you spoke about are a matter of choice. All of us can look at them together. I had no idea Diana kept those records or that Jacob had seen them. He said nothing to me.' Vincent frowned. Catherine thought it might have been about the lack of communication with his son, but his next words clearly showed the true cause.  
'As to your work outside, I think you need to be busy Catherine. Your healing depends on resuming as much of your life as possible. Being involved is a part of who you are.'

Vincent heard and felt the deep sigh. It was so unlike his wife to second guess herself. Vincent did not want to be patronizing. It was important to remind Catherine of her strengths. 'Do you remember how you challenged those doctors for Mea? You refused to be pushed into making a decision which would affect not just her and Cilla, but Jacob and Cathy. I was so proud of you.'

'I was inspired to fight for what was right. I can't believe that this issue of people using public platforms and programs to launder money is more disheartening than motivating. I am disgusted rather than inspired. Maybe the crusader needs to be a younger version of myself.'

'You have a daughter in law who has already shown that she can hold her own. The termination of her sanctuary below will leave her with a void.'

'Suppose she wants to have a baby? I don't want to tie up her life with more stress if she and Jacob make that choice.'

'Just ask her Catherine. She can only say yes or no. If her answer is yes, you will have the opportunity to teach her what you know. You will make a wonderful mentor.' he said pulling lightly on the strands of her hair.

'I feel lighter already. I love you Vincent.'

If Vincent had one future hope, it was to hold this moment in memory. For some reason, he felt as if he and his wife had crossed a threshold of understanding.

* * *

Cathy was extremely curious about this unexpected visit with Philippe. She had hoped to spend her evening with Jacob at home or at least have dinner out then return home. Much as she had liked Philippe, her sudden pressing need to hear her parents story, intruded on her good manners. Rather than being a gracious guest in the spacious hotel suite, she was restless and unsettled. The opulence of the furnishings was also quite distracting. She had never been in any accomodation quite like this, despite having a very wealthy mother-in-law and grandfather.

Cathy sat on a large plush sofa, full of cushions shaded in an off white colour. Jacob sat beside her. He was listening intently to the words coming from their host. Cathy was becoming aware that it wasn't just a social call. Philippe also had issues of concern which could only be helped by Jacob. She settled her restlessness with great effort and tried to listen.

Philippe, casually elegant, smiled at his guests. The situation felt surreal. He wondered if he had really flown acoss the country because a necklace gave off strange vibrations when he held it in his hand. It was clear that somewhere between LA and NY he came to his senses and yet, he could not let go of the desire to find out more. He didn't know where to start and looked expectantly at Jacob hoping for an opening which wouldn't make him look foolish.

After the initial phone calls and given a little time to think, Jacob had worked out a plan for the evening. Philippe's call had not been unexpected. It was the culmination of so many things which had to happen in order for the moment to be right for the troubled man. As the trio sat in the living room of the very beautiful suite in upper Manhattan, he wondered what the end of the evening would bring. The troubled eyes of his wife rested on him. He wasn't looking at her but could sense every fibre of her being asking him why they should spend the evening in the company of a virtual stranger when she wanted more than anything to talk about her father in a way that only Jacob could understand. Jacob realized that after years of vacillating between a temperate disgust vs a deeper hate for the man who gave her life, she finally found a place in her heart where she could warm up to him. Too late to mend the relationship in real life, but his unique life skills seemed to humanize him in a way which his long suffering daughter could appreciate.

Cathy's impatience with this hastily organized meeting was palpable. Philippe was a kind man. She had enjoyed meeting him at the wedding. There was no doubt that she felt a kinship with him but Cathy felt no great need to extend their acquaintance beyond the weekend unless circumstances dictated otherwise. He lived in LA and had no real bearing in her life, much as she liked him on sight. Her mind was inclined to wander a little but she heard Jacob speaking in that voice he used when accessing information from the past. Despite her personal distraction, she tried to keep her attention on him rather than her feelings.

'Philippe, I know that you are aware of a story that took place almost one thousand years ago, which united two diverse branches of our family and gave strength to a very weak link but I must go back a little further, if you will bear with me?'  
Philippe nodded. He sat in a comfy chair, facing the husband and wife. His long legs were crossed but his eyes darted back and forth between Jacob and Cathy. If he was troubled, not a bit of it showed in his face.  
Jacob closed his eyes for a moment before beginning his story.

_'In ancient Egypt there was a cult, centered around the myth and cult of the Golden Lion. The people were worshippers of the Goddess Sekhmet. Our family, and I include myself in this, were a mixed race of Egyptians and Jews who escaped out of the Nile delta in order to pursue unique freedoms. Our ancestors travelled north, together initially, then they spread out among the various countries of Europe. The greatest number settled in France and Italy but the last stragglers of the group ventured as far as Britain. A particular and tenacious family settled in Ireland. They arrived by sea, but the exact details are unknown to me. However, the skill handed down to each generation was the gift of healing, cultivation of herbs and a feline strength and energy particular to certain members of the families._

_By the end of the last millennium, there were very few from a direct line who were left to carry on the practices. From our dreams, we know that a single female of the cult, subsisted near death until the arrival of a man from over the water who saved her. He too was of the lion people but his line had also faded over the centuries. His people mated with the cult of the tree worshippers. From what I can tell, his family would have been the last in his country to carry enough of the DNA._  
_On his maiden voyage, the longboat in which he travelled was lost at sea. The miracle of his landing in Ireland was an energy gift from the Goddess Sekhmet. She hoped to reunite at least two branches of the family and renew the line. Arden and Knut had one child, before his death but their mating gave Arden the strength to carry on and discover her gift of healing through herbs. _

_Her son was able to marry and produce a large family, whose name of Kardin or Gardener thrived over the next few centuries. There are many legends which have arisen in the different families but in the Irish branch, giving birth to eight boys in sequence would pave the way for immortality._  
_It was almost 800 years more, when the family was again at a low ebb, before one woman gave birth to eight sons, a prophecy and a blessing to the cult. From the group of eight came the families needed to rebuild the strength of the Lion Cult and restore its glory. _

_The problem is that the gift has been misused and abused. What should have been a glorious opportunity to take the strength of the lion and create a world of health and love has been wasted in the trafficking of drugs and humans. As more and more of the power becomes known, less and less is used for what's right.'_

Jacob stopped. Cathy knew the story. Philippe didn't. It seemed an outrageous tale and one which would make any sensible man laugh at the foolishness of it. There was no laughter, just the thoughtful look of a man who has been told a truth previously known only to his subconscious.

'As strange as it may seem, I am neither surprised nor shocked although when I first saw the vision of it, I thought it might be the story of my parents. I see this is not the case. What I thought was their love story is more like history repeating itself. There is more, I assume?'

Jacob nodded in response. Cathy settled back in her chair. She knew now that Philippe shared DNA with her and Jacob. He belonged to the same cult of the Golden Lion. She had no doubt that his personal story would be compelling. Cathy had already experienced the beauty of the ancient tale in dreams as well as the ugliness of the cult diversity in real life. Shuddering briefly, she remembered Virgil and his quest for Holly. With great effort, she closed her mind to the memories and focused on her husband's words.

Jacob continued the narrative.

_'The families who are descendants of the cult will strive, through an intuitive process, to find and mate with another. It increases the effectiveness of the inherited skills in the same way that the worst are also enhanced. I can't tell you what will prompt the often distressing manipulation which occurs. The best mating is for love, of course, but power is equally seductive. Members of the cult have travelled far and wide for the right bride even if they don't know it._  
_During the initial migration from Egypt, many stayed in France and Italy and became Catholic. Of the original group who were Jewish, many moved on because of widespread persecution. So this family embraces and encompasses all types of religious thought and philosophy._  
_Before I end my part, I need to tell you that one or two legends are true. There will always be an Exemplar, one who is held in high esteem, well above all others. He will have the gifts of the lion. He is born to the pair who most represent an ideal vision of the lion. They must both possess the mark of the lion and have more than eighty percent of the blood. There is also, in the belief of the Catholic branch, a Diosa representing the Goddess Sekhmet or her Roman counterpart Cybele. The male virgin who mates with her will produce the leminscate, eight males in a row. _

_And so, as we stand today, many members of the family fight over the mundane fortunes garnered from illegal sources. On the other hand, in many bitter battles, cult members are fighting for the woman who will receive the blessing and additional power of the Goddess. __Currently, the bulk of the family are in a battle for the resources which will bring power. The Exemplar is my father, a role which he despises. The Diosa is an American born woman, raised in India whose great-grandfather was one of the eight as was mine and Cathy's. Your mother is the granddaughter of yet another. The amazing leminscate birth took place in Ireland between a male descendant of the line and a French member of the Merovingian line of royalty. All cult members are tied into the sign of the Leo the lion in astrology and the glorification of the sun which rules its house.'_

Philippe let out a stream of incomprehensible French before remembering that his guests could not understand him. 'I came here for help in finding my daughter, not to learn about this strange history which, at this moment, takes my breath away.'

'I know Philippe, but without the history, nothing else will make sense. What you want to know involves all three of us here. You must understand the history, before the present will crystallize. There are so many more people to know and understand. What I have just told you is a précis of generations of our ancestors and barely a start in understanding the full impact of who we are.'

Jacob paused again. He stretched his hand out along the comfy couch and captured Cathy's hand. She moved marginally closer to him. It was clear that he was protecting her as much as Philippe. Jacob felt her heart flutter, in anticipation of even more revelations.

Philippe dug his hand in his pocket and pulled out the necklace which Hélène had given him. He held it between two fingers and waited for the message which came to him.  
'I am to give this to you. I know nothing about its history. My mother gave it to me when I left Belgium. She said "_my heart will always be with you"_. When I left Montreal, I gave it to Hélène, my dearest friend and confidante during my school years. She passed it on to her daughter Madeleine who was later killed in a fire. Among the charred belongings which were found near her bed, was the necklace. Since Hélène returned it to me, I have not been able to rest. Something tells me that Madeleine did not die in that fire and that she may still be alive. I have to know the truth.'

'Why Philippe?' Cathy asked.

Philippe felt his heart jump at the question. It wasn't the words she spoke but the mannerism which was so much like his mother, that he felt an immediate sorrow for the loss of her sweetness. How many years had passed and still the ache would not go away.  
Jacob sensed the sorrow and knew that he didn't want to delay getting at the truth but he allowed Philippe to speak and encouraged him to share his own experience. He chose first to answer her question.

'Cathy, I was young man with a dream when I left Belgium. My mother, who was my dearest love, was a concert pianist. She instilled her love of music in me through our genes and our connection. She was brilliant. When I told my father, the grandson of a Prince, that I wanted to be a musician and not a business man he was appalled but he could do little to stop me. After many discussions, I left home and went to Montreal to study. I met a student there, Hélène.'

Philippe stopped and smiled remembering her youthful exuberance and loveliness which had captivated him in their youth. It was quickly followed by a vision of the concern on her face when she learned of his quest the previous night. 'Hélène taught me to speak English, laughed at my hoity-toity French, helped me to create the most beautiful music and seduced me. She is the only woman who could ever have done such a thing.'

Philippe smiled apologetically.

'I did love her dearly but not in a way which would ever make either of us happy. At the end of our four years at university, I went my way and she hers. I could not stay there and I could not return home. My father, upon learning the truth of who I am, disowned me and forbid me ever to see anyone in the family again. To him, I was dead'.

Cathy frowned realizing through this kindly man, a little of what her father must have felt when faced with Edgar Raeburn's wrath. She listened as Philippe continued to narrate his story.

'At the wedding of Jason and Terry, when I met you, Cathy, something inside me longed to step into the past. Your courage and your vulnerability touched me and opened a door in my soul. I was reminded so much of Hélène that I felt a need to find out where she was and visit with her if she would see me. It wasn't hard to find her but to my shock, she told me that her daughter Madeleine was…was…my child.'  
Philippe could not hold back the tears then.

Cathy, whose kind heart forgot about her own anxiety, moved from Jacob's side and went to him. She kneeled in front of Philippe and took his hands.

'What a painful experience for you!'

Cathy continued to croon soft words to the broken man. Her response felt natural, as if she should be with him. When he settled she didn't immediately return to the couch but sat at his feet because she knew that Jacob would be speaking. She brushed off his concern for her comfort. 'I am fine.'  
In the silence, one word rang out in her head.

_'Did Philippe say he had been in Montreal? Could he have known Freddy?' _She thought about it before requesting confirmation. 'Philippe, did you say you studied in... Montreal?' she asked looking up at him.  
'Yes, my pronunciation is French. Why do you ask?'

'My Father was there too but... I suppose…. not at the same time as you?'

'I don't know Mignonne. I left in 1969.'

'Ok, sorry. My father was just a teenager then.'

'Was he from Canada?'

'Oh no. He was born and raised in New York but I recently learned that he spent some time in Canada. He had an interest in the architecture of The Empress Theatre.'

'I know it. Quite Egyptian in character. Does it fit with the family history that you talked about Jacob?'

Both faces looked up at Jacob whose piercing blue eyes had changed colour. He had a curious look on his face. Unknown to them, he had been smiling at the pair observing carefully as they talked back and forth. He remembered the day of the wedding when Cathy sang so beautifully accompanied by Philippe. The sweet music of their duet opened a door into his own mind. He wanted them to keep talking but time was getting late and there was a long story to be told.  
Jacob wondered if this was the right time. He could satisfy Philippe's curiosity easily and avoid the necessity of distressing his wife but his conscience would not allow him to do so. Trust was a part of his incredible gift and one which he did not take lightly.

Trust included being faithful to the truth.


	16. Chapter 16

Blunt XVI

An interesting aura settled on the trio in the room. Philippe and Cathy were suspended within a bubble of energy. Their ability to see was enhanced, but the processing of information was audited and held in abeyance. Almost immobile, encircled by a shining spot light and bathed in a yellow glow, sat Jacob. His blue eyes changed to a unusual colour of gold. Unseen by the others in the room was a swirling figure which Jacob had previously known in dream form only. In the deepest part of him, which he held tightly below the surface of his humanity, lay the strength of the beast and the vision of the Exemplar. He listened carefully. A message from his own spiritual guide was beaming towards him and one which would change his perception of everything.

'_My son, please know that you are about to receive the full presence of your gift of insight. Do so with the understanding that although your father holds a special place in this family, you, my son, are The Exemplar Extraordinaire. The love of your parents brought the energy of generations of the children of Sekhmet to bear in the beauty of your conception and birth. The time and place were preordained in a prophecy writ aeons ago. Tonight, with this tale you are about to share, you will also know yourself, your place in the cosmos and what the future holds for you. Use this knowledge wisely.'_

Jacob's eyes flashed before resuming their natural colour. As he looked at Philippe and Cathy, he was aware that they were in a state of suspended animation. They had lost a millisecond of reality but the young man, with a wealth of responsibility on his shoulders, knew they would have no clue about the missing fraction of time. Jacob was also aware that he could, in a simple form, transmit the entire history to both via brain waves. The story could be realized to anyone accessing the Akashic records. To help the pair in front of him, he could merely be the vehicle.

Jacob made a rapid assessment of their needs. Cathy's face held a hint of curiosity. Jacob knew she had briefly seen the change of eye colour. Philippe, who did not, was openly puzzled. His intuitive skills were available to him in at a different level. Cathy, who was deeply grounded in the here and now would need process. In that moment, Jacob made the decision to return to real time and allow the story to unfold. With a whoosh of air, the atmosphere in the room resumed normal rhythm.

'Jacob, are you alright? We're waiting.'

'I know my love. I just needed to gather my thoughts.' Jacob took another deep breath and proceeded to draw information. The gold heart of the necklace was held securely in the palm of his hand. Before beginning a new narrative, he closed his long fingers around the object and said his prayer of supplication.

...

'Your personal voyage, Philippe, began on the day you chose Montreal. It set the stage for the birth of your daughter Madeleine with another who carried a significant volume of cult DNA. You were not meant to have another child because your daughter was destined to give birth to the modern Diosa. Although her life was not what you would have wished, you are right. She did not die in the fire.

What you garnered from within your intuitive self and hated, was the interference by her step father, a despicable man who started molesting her at a very young age.

Madeleine became aware that his attention to her was not normal at the same time as she approached puberty. In her young days, he used todraw her attention with a loving affection to get his way. Then he gave her money to keep her quiet. She hated the bribery but each time he molested her then forced her to take the money, she was able to save towards a time when she could leave. When her body would no longer allow him to touch her, she refused everything outright. Guy resorted to threats to get his own way. When, she asked him why he didn't treat her sister the same way he replied, 'because she is my daughter, you are not!' The venom in his voice shattered her fragile ego.

The only safety valve was her music. No one could see the hurt underlying her performances. More and more she adopted a double persona which allowed her to hide in one. The fear generated by Guy's constant onslaught eventually took its toll on her.

On the day when she told her mother the truth, Madeleine abandoned the feminine side of herself for months after. She cut her golden hair short, covered it with a dark wig and dressed like a boy. Long after her grandparents slept at night, Madeleine would cover up her body, put on the wig and head out onto the streets of Montreal.

She cared little about school. Instead she found her way to the late night district, before getting a job cleaning at the Empress theatre where she was able to see the shows. Trying to put her talent out there was hopeless. Mostly, she was laughed at but there was something about the compelling play on stage at the Empress Theatre which held her. The Rocky Horror Show presented an odd assortment of people on stage, doing weird things in strange costumes. It was nothing like she had seen before. Somehow Madeleine became a part of the cast and groupies who hung out with the shows performers.

Among her favourites was a dark haired man, whose troubled soul matched her own. He thought initially that she was a boy and felt amused by the adoration, but he soon discovered that 'MadLen' was in fact a girl. Her biggest goal was to get on stage as an actor and singer. He was amused by her efforts. When she found out he was from New York, she made it her mission to use him to help her get there. From what she had heard from her grandmother, her father, a musician had gone there and she wanted to find him.

Jacob halted in his narrative and returned his full attention to the present. Two people sat in front of him, their mouths agape, eyes wide, virtually hyperventilating.

`Jacob ... was the man... Freddy? Please tell me...was he...there?'

Jacob could not respond. He had an access channel which allowed him to 'see' those events. He didn't want to leave it to satisfy Cathy's longing but he realized that he could shift gears and see where Frederick entered the picture. He raised a hand to stop Cathy's questions before shifting his attention back to the past.

'Frederick Raeburn was a troubled man. On the one hand he was steeped in the rituals and activities of his father's association with the followers of the Silver Star organization. He spent years listening at doors while his father and others like John Pater debated the esoteric mysteries introduced by Aleister Crowley. He became fascinated and couldn't wait to grow up and be a part of the group. His study of architecture brought him closer to Crowley's interests which extended all the way to the history and mythology of Egypt.

Frederick had one flaw which his father could not abide. Frederick liked to dress up in women's clothes. The gowns of the ritual attracted him. There was something so feminine about the feel of silk that he couldn't resist its allure. He possessed a cupboard full of vestments for ritual work and designer clothes for everyday. The behaviour put him at odds with his father. Very few people could tolerate his activities. In an effort to avoid the shame associated with deviant activities, he began using heroin and other mind bending drugs to avoid his problems.

There were many times when he would abandon the outside world for the smoky underbelly of the drug addict. When he was able to focus on anything, it was the world of theatre which allowed his naturally elegant tenor voice to shine but it also gave him the opportunity to enjoy the dress up, so necessary for his psyche. He was not bisexual as a man. The cross-dressing left him in a secondary state of mind. When he met MadLen, he was flattered by the adoration of her male persona then enamoured by the ability of her female persona. She could change clothes and attitude in the blink of an eye. They both dabbled in transvestism although MadLen used it as a way to hide. For Frederick, it was erotic.

Frederick had several interests around New York state. Mostly he drove around and looked at buildings. He would occasionally design something for a friend but he had no need of money. At other times he explored his love of music and became involved in regional theatre. He was fairly well known for his voice. Much as he would have like to appear on stage more often, his father's wrath and constant push to find meaningful work deterred him. He had no wish to be a part of what was a fully fledged criminal organization. To Frederick's sensitive soul, it was not worth the effort.

What drew him to Montreal was some measure of anonymity and the extraordinary architecture and interior design of The Empress Theatre. It gave him the opportunity to study the interior work of Emmanuel Briffa. Ever since Frederick saw some work of the designer in America, he was determined to fulfill a dream to follow up and compare other extraordinary works of Briffa, found mostly in Canada.

The Empress Theatre combined both aspects of Frederick's main interests with respect to architecture and its interior design. He also became heavily involved in the ongoing stage play The Rocky Horror Show whose permanent home in Montreal, was the Empress Theatre. The theme of the play fed his inner troubled self. When he was away from his father and free to dress as he pleased, his need for drugs was greatly reduced. Being in Montreal was liberating.

His meeting with MadLen softened his sometimes harsh and brooding demeanour. He loved the adoration and whether his new companion was clothed in male or female garb, the relationship grew. She loved the theatre and thanked Frederick for opening doors and allowing her to be a part of it.

MadLen's desire to travel to New York eventually became a point of conflict between them. Every time Frederick went away she begged him to take her. As a boy traveling with another male they could pass off as father and son but a young girl was a different story. Getting over the border was not a problem but if they were stopped anywhere along the line, it could be trouble. Freddy, as she began to call him, worried about the risk although he was not unwilling to get caught up in the adventure.

When she could see that Freddy was weakening, Madeleine made a decision. First she needed to go home to her mother in order to put her plan into action. Initially she thought about stealing her stepfather's ID. There was a vague resemblance in the dark hair and stormy eyes of both men, but she realized that they would travel better as a mother and daughter. Freddy was a normal male but loved women's clothes. He was a closet transvestite who knew how to dress to perfection in either gender. Once over the border they would be able to find their way to a motel and change back to two males.

The plan took some time to execute. Madeleine had been away from her home for nearly a year. The troubled teenager was pushing sixteen and feeling as if she never wanted to return to who she was. For sure, any relationship with her mother, was impossible as long as Hélène was living with Guy. Going back to the house to steal some form of identification was difficult. Her arrival there could be seen as a gesture of forgiveness. There was none in her heart for Guy nor her mother's perceived complicity. Madeleine felt that Hélène could have, but failed to stop him. Choosing to adopt an attitude of anger, which she knew would hurt her mother, was tough but getting sidetracked by emotion wasn't going to get her out of town. Madeleine was only half as interested in finding her father as she was about getting to Broadway.

The heart pendant necklace was an unexpected gift from her mother. The offering was nearly her undoing but she steeled herself to the beauty of it by remembering the ugliness of her stepfather's unwelcome embrace. She hugged her mother knowing it was a final goodbye. In that moment Madeleine knew she would never return home. In her pocket was her mother's birth certificate which Freddy would use in his feminine disguise.

...

Days later they found that getting across the border was relatively simple. There were very few restrictions between the two countries and they chose a smaller less used crossing. 'Mother and daughter' laughed and answered questions from the guard. They passed without a fuss and drove on holding their glee inside until well past the gates.

Unknown to Madeleine, Freddy had arranged to visit a smaller upstate town on his way back to New York. He did not plan to take Madeleine with him. His visit was mostly an opportunity to stock up on his drugs. It wasn't a world he wanted to introduce to his young protégé as he often called MadLen.

Their first stop was a motel close to Watertown. They checked in and resumed the male persona. Madeleine put on her dark wig, jeans and jacket, and practiced deepening her voice to give the appearance of a teenager in the throes of puberty. She was halted in her rehearsal by Freddy's next words.

'I have arranged for you to stay at a shelter for kids. You will be with others your own age for a couple of days. I don't want to leave you here unprotected and I just can't take you with me MadLen.'

I told you to stop calling me that. It makes me sound like a crazy person. If you can't say my name right, call me Len or Lena when I am a girl. What do you mean you're leaving me?' A long and angry discussion ensued before Madeleine finally turned her back on him. 'Anyway, I don't care what you want to do,' she announced when Freddy refused to budge.

In reality, Madeleine was scared. Freddy had traveled back and forth to New York many times but she always anticipated that he would be back. If he didn't return at least she had a home, albeit one she hated. Leaving her alone in a small town in a different country left her frightened but she sensed that what he was going to do would also be dangerous for her. Despite her pout she let him go the following day. With a wan smile on her face, she forced him to promise over and over that he would be back.

...

The farmhouse which stood at the end of a long road off the main highway on the edge of town, was not clean. Several young people were there. Many of them were, violent, drug addicted kids. The girls were going into the nearby town to prostitute themselves for money to feed their habits. Freddy paid the overseer to keep an eye on his 'son' who was really a girl with problems as he explained. The man didn't care. He took the money and put MadLen in with the girls. Clearly Freddy had no idea what being a father entailed. If he did, he would not have left Madeleine unprotected since he knew that his own world of addiction could get out of control at any time.

Days passed without Freddy's return. The money ran out and Madeleine felt afraid of the man who threatened to throw her out on the street.

The overseer wasn't her only menace. She shared a small second floor room with five other girls. They all slept on small cots, clutching their few belongings. Many had similar or worse stories to tell of their young lives but they were all about survival.

Madeleine was down to her last dollars. She didn't think she could ever go out and sell her body for money as the others did but she was desperate. She soon realized that she had been selling her body for years to Guy. 'What would be the difference?' she thought with all the naivety of a young girl.

When Jake, the overseer came for his money, he told Madeleine in no uncertain terms that she had better get on the street or get out. Bills had to be paid!

One of the girls who seemed to have no fear of anything offered to show Madeleine the ropes.

'You can come with me if you's scared. I done it lotsa times. Ya don't care after a while. Money makes it good.'

Madeleine drew off her wig and let out her hair shocking the others who thought she dressed like a boy because she was a lesbian. She changed into a skirt and tight top. Her new found friend offered to do her face.

'You's pretty when yur dun up.'

Madeleine didn't care. She needed a few dollars to help her until Freddy came back. She didn't even want to contemplate the alternative. _'Could he have abandoned her_?'

Throughout the evening, while the girls wee getting ready to go out, Madeleine could smell a funny odour in the house. There were a few boys on the first floor. They smoked a lot but the smell of natural gas was very strong, over and above the stench of nicotine and pot.

It got to be overpowering. Madeleine had grown up with a gas powered stove and furnace. She knew the smell was too strong to be safe. A glance at the others showed them to be sitting and laughing as if they didn't have a care in the world. She mentioned the gas and wondered if anyone else thought it strange. No one did. Taking her time, she went downstairs where the odour became stronger and stronger. She heard a rumbling sound and headed for the front door as fast as her legs would take her. Seconds later the house exploded into flames.

The impact threw her to the ground. When she came to her senses, she dragged herself further away from the smoke and flames pouring out the door. It was impossible to even attempt to save anyone. Not only that. All her belongings were gone. She turned and ran as fast and as far as she could into the wooded area beyond the field and stayed there huddled near a tree shivering in her short skirt and top. She was barefooted and shocked, wondering what would happen to her.

Madeleine remained hidden throughout the night. She was cold and scared. The fire eventually brought several people to the site. The focus remained on the house and the bodies of the kids who were burned beyond recognition. One by one they were removed. Madeleine knew she would never be the same. It was frightening to realize how close she had come to death.

As more and more people arrived to help out with the disaster, she was able to sneak around the perimeter and grab a jacket which had been left lying around. Huddled under its dark cover, she stayed out of sight until near daybreak, before making her way to the perimeter of the property. Slowly she found the main state road and stood on the shoulder wondering what to do next. Hitchhiking was out of the question.

Her feet were sore and cut from walking through the woods but she flitted across the highway and followed the direction of the few lights still flashing in the small town. By memory she found her way back to the motel where she and Freddy had stayed. She hoped he would eventually return there.

The late night clerk was getting ready to end his shift and was inclined to chase her away from the lobby. 'I don't run an establishment for hookers', he said. Madeleine cried. She hated her attire, almost forgetting that she looked entirely different to the boyish persona when she and Freddy stayed before.

'The place where I was staying got burned. I have nowhere to go until my uncle comes back. He's already late. Please let me stay.'

The price she had to pay for 'staying' was not invasive but just enough to get her some food, drink and an old pair of slippers, someone left behind. For every day that Freddy stayed away, she would pay a 'fee'. Madeleine hoped it would not be too long. She closed her mind to memories of what Guy had done to her. This was survival.

Indeed, when Freddy returned two days later, looking like a man who had been living on the edge, he was horrified by the news of her escape. In an effort to make up for his lapse, he was kindness itself to the young girl. Freddy had not expected to be a caregiver to a teenager and yet his feelings for MadLen were real.

For more than a week, he had been caught up in the world of drugs and ritual. The addict and the magi in him failed to remember that a young and vulnerable girl, barely more than a child, waited for his promised return. In the throes of feeding his addiction, Frederick had been alternately angry about the loss of his freedom even while he felt vaguely responsible for her care. To return and see the broken child, so different from the brash, risk taking, girl he left behind, pricked his conscience.

Freddy quickly rented a room and put MadLen to bed, getting her food, and toiletries. He found a deep compassion for her and was surprised to discover how fulfilled he felt as a nurturing figure in her life. When he thanked the now guilty looking clerk for watching over her until his return, it never occurred to him to go beyond the surface and question motives. Freddy put MadLen's lack of enthusiasm down to trauma. He was even more shaken to learn how close she had come to death. The newspaper stories told the true tale of the farmhouse activities. Freddy was appalled to learn about the way in which the establishment had been run. He shook his head at how many young lives were lost and wondered how in a moment of his carelessness, MadLen's safety had been compromised.

He thought about his life and the naivety and selfishness with which he lived. He never thought of anyone but himself because in thirty five years he never had to. The outcome of the fire had been revelatory. As he watched MadLen sleep and cry and sleep and cry he vowed to try and be a better person. Although the runaway teen had initially begged him to help her, by falling in with the plan Freddy gave tacit agreement to be somehow responsible for her as well. Ignoring her safety for days on end, showed poor judgment but he blamed the drugs.

Neither parenting nor marriage had ever entered his head. His quirky nature would be unacceptable to most women. And yet, the tradition of his family had been drummed into his head since he was a kid. MadLen was young enough to satisfy Edgar Sr. and his rigid criteria of a teenage bride. Even though he didn't know her background, she was amenable and easy to please. She had no problems with his need to 'dress up' now and again and perhaps, he thought, it was something they could do together because she liked it too.

While MadLen did her best to recover from the shock of the fire and fear it generated in her, Freddy, in an uncharacteristic and quixotic moment of respect, made plans to marry her as soon as she was of age.


	17. Chapter 17

Blunt XVII

Over and above the visions flowing from his brow, Jacob could hear the sound of his wife sobbing. He didn't want to halt the flow of information. Fatigue brought some discomfort not just to him but Cathy and Philippe. No one had moved since Jacob began the narrative. Cathy remained at Philippe's side. She leaned against his outer thigh. His hand rested on top of her head, absently stroking the hair.

To stop might change the dynamics of what they were experiencing. For a moment Jacob considered what would most likely make Cathy content. Philippe already knew that his daughter survived the fire. It could be that MadLen was the same girl who also gave birth to Cathy. That would make Philippe her grandfather. Was Freddy really her father? What about the sense that Lena held some sacred purpose? Jacob knew what was important to Cathy and once again he sought those channels which would combine an honest accounting of her family history.

Jacob within himself the deep changes which had become an increasing force of energy. He felt such power flowing. From his first awakening in the Arizona desert until this night, he realized how much clarity there was in each sequence. Not only could he see events clearly but the hopes and aspirations of each person came through, increasing the dimension of understanding. At the back of his mind was another urgent story waiting to be told. It would tie in with Freddy and MadLen. Jacob had glimpses of this before. He felt a sigh of relief as everything fell into place.

The small break allowed everyone a reprieve from the ups and downs of the story. If there was to be an end, Cathy would have to tell him to stop. He nodded slightly to reassure his listeners and resumed his narrative. He could now see clearly in both channels offering glimpses of the past. He understood how to combine them for a very cohesive story. Jacob continued his narrative.

* * *

'Once Frederick made up his mind that marriage was the only solution, he put the idea to Len/Lena.

"Don't be stupid Freddy. I don't want to get married and be tied to some idiot guy. That's what my mother did. Look where it got her."

"I'm offended that you think I'm an idiot," he said, hand on heart.

"Freddy, I'm sorry. I didn't mean that. You know what I mean."

Rather than be upset, Frederick found her youthful brashness and sincere contrition to be quite endearing even though her vision of their 'deal' was highly impractical.

"Look. I can't go around all the time dressed up as your mother. When you are a girl, I can be charged if I take you across state lines without being a relative. If you were my wife, people might think I'm weird for having a child bride but I wouldn't be the first. My mother was sixteen to my father's forty years when she had me. May-December marriages are a part of my family dynamics. Marry 'em young! That's what my father says. So as my wife I could protect you, travel with you safely and you would have the ID of your choice. Think about it."

Madeleine gave Frederick a questioning look. He didn't miss the fear in her eyes.

"I can't do those things in the normal way. Never have. So far I prefer a fancy dress to a real woman. If things change, I'll let you know."

Madeleine giggled. "I like it when we are guys together. I trust you Freddy. Promise me you will never let me down."

"I can only do my best. Don't ask too much of me Lena."

With those words, Freddy and Lena sealed their deal to become man and wife. Since Madeleine lost her ID in the fire, Frederick used his considerable skill and contacts to secure new papers for her. He stuck as closely as possible to the facts. At her request, he only changed her last name from Rousseau to DeLané. She explained that it was her father's name and if she was going to find him, she needed to carry his name.

"That will make you too foreign. In America we say Delaney."

"They can call me what they like. That's how I'm going to spell it."

Freddy relented. MadLen was serious and adamant about her name. He secured the necessary papers and researched the best state to marry a sixteen year old. It turned out that Nevada and Florida would offer the least opposition and shortest residency requirement. In order to get the licence, he forged consent for the marriage dressed as her mother. Freddy chose Florida for their wedding. He had a surprise for his young friend, soon to be a wife.

* * *

Frederick and Lena travelled south by car. By the time they got to Florida, Lena was sixteen and the pair quickly celebrated their nuptials. Freddy lookied handsome with his dark wavy hair slicked down. Lena wore a simple white dress which he purchased as a surprise. What Lena found out and loved was that Freddy could act and be young at heart. It seemed that a normal childhood had been stunted by his father's tyranny and the loss of his mother so early. A series of young stepmothers and incompetent nannies crossed his life, none worse than his father's last wife who was also Vincent's aunt. Their incompetence left a mark on the young boy.

If Lena had any wishes at all for her time in the sunshine state, it would have been the opportunity to spend time at the ocean for the first time in her life. Freddy however had much more in store for her. He knew she would love the freedom of the wide sunny beaches and indeed she ran from end to end digging her toes in the sand with delight. When the sun wasn't shining on her at the shoreline, she swam in the hotel pool. After their time at the resort, they moved on. When Freddy returned from his drug filled week in upper New York State and found his protégé scared to death and homeless, his conscience could not be assuaged. He knew so little about her but considered that a fitting apology would be a trip to Disney World. Freddy wasn't aware of her secret desires either. However, it was hard for him not to mirror the tears in her eyes when she stood in the centre of Fantasyland, watching and being a part of a childhood dream.

Her natural fun loving side was so infectious that Freddy let go of some of his own inhibitions and enjoyed day after day of park rides, games and shows. With the marriage a done deal and a new comfort level achieved, Lena felt secure enough to share some of her engaging childhood performances in the evenings when they were alone. During one of those times, as Freddy became the Spanish Senorita and Lena became Zorro, the two found a strange eroticism in their union and consummated their marriage much to the surprise of both. It did not deter their fun nor change much in the relationship. The physical manifestation of their love did cement their friendship.

* * *

Both of them knew their time in the south could not last. Freddy had to return to New York at some point and Lena was determined to find her father. She fully intended to explore the theatre world and give voice to her ambitions. Lena had no idea what kind of life her husband lived. He never seemed to work and yet he always had money. She personally asked for very little. His drug habits declined but he seemed to know where to get what he needed. Lena could not remember seeing her husband in any state other than a measured mellowness. When he had a certain look she stayed out of his way knowing his fight against the need for drugs could be personal and intense at times.

They set a date to end their prolonged honeymoon. As the day came closer and closer, Lena noted that Freddy seemed to shrink into himself. She knew it wasn`t the drugs. He became introspective and forgetful of his surroundings. She didn`t force confidences but over time her husband, sensing that she had a maturity beyond her years, confided that returning to New York would create unwelcome change. Lena felt fear for the first time in months.

"I would be happier to return to Canada Lena."

"I can't go back there Freddy. Leave me here and come back for me. Guy has done enough to ruin my life."

The brewing distemper was a facade for both which hid true feelings. Freddy knew he had to return to New York and confront his father with news of the marriage and a decision about the direction of his life. Edgar had made it clear that his eldest son had to take on his responsibilities in the business. Despite immense wealth, he refused to support his son any further. The bank had sent on the message with his last deposit into an open account. The pair left Florida four months after their arrival. Two things were true. It was to be the end of their idyllic time. They would never know that happiness again. Unknown to Lena, she was also pregnant.

* * *

'Oh my God...my parents **were **married!' Cathy burst out, surprising her husband and the man at her side who was now known as her grandfather. 'I have always hated being illegitimate. It doesn't matter to a lot of people but my mother lived most of her life as a prostitute. Feeling that she was actually married to my father makes my life completely different.

'My dear child, you are the living energy of my daughter. It was the message she was trying to send me the moment I took that necklace in my hand.'

Cathy stood up and embraced her mother's father. The sobbing stopped but tears would not. For the first time she felt a true kinship with someone other than her husband and his family. When she remembered the feeling of that first meeting with Philippe, it had generated a true warmth within her. He was comforting and comfortable to be with. She knew there was more. He mentioned the name Hélène and knew it belonged to Lena's mother. _'A grandmother' _she thought. Cathy was unable to take it in. She loved the feel of Philippe. His long fingers gripped her hair while he placed soft kisses on her both cheeks.

'Grandfather.' She breathed out the word. It never escaped her lips before in the context of a relationship. It was as sweet to her bruised and abandoned heart as the words were on her lips.

Jacob took another break. He didn't want to stop but was also hesitant to resume the narrative.. Cathy already knew her life and what it entailed. The difficulty would be with Philippe who had to endure the intimate knowledge of the downward spiral of Lena's life.

* * *

Freddy drove north at a steady pace. He didn't seem in a hurry. The late model, silver coloured Eldorado with its luxurious interior was like nothing she had ever seen. Madeleine felt spoiled by the comfort but her heart was dismayed to see the continued withdrawal of her husband. He had seemed like a different person in Florida. For the first time in her life the teenager who ran away from home, felt she could really love someone. However, just as the distance in miles increased from their honeymoon vacation the the emotional distance between them increased.

Lena never expected to stop over. She had no sense of time or distance for the trip but she was aware of an urgency. The ride down had been leisurely. The return, with its ominous overtones, seemed endless. At first there was a frenetic quality to the drive. The music was loud and Freddy was restless at the wheel, saying very little. He did inquire as to her comfort from time to time but mostly he appeared lost in his thoughts. He shared very few of them with his young wife. To her surprise, he chose to stay overnight in North Carolina. It soon became obvious that what he needed was his drugs. Whatever was facing him in New York, nothing was to his liking. The stop over, at a not so classy motel, lasted two days before they were on the move again.

As New York city came into view, Lena forgot about the stress of her new marriage, her distant husband and her fear of the future. The city was everything she thought and more. Her head was soon full of dreams of Broadway, sightseeing and finding her father that she didn't notice Freddy had gone completely silent.

When they pulled into the large building which seemed to be a office complex in the late afternoon, Madeleine held her breath.

''Come on! Let's go!'' she heard Freddy say harshly.

''Is this where you live?''

''No my Father lives and works from here.''

His responses were terse. Lena decided not to ask any more questions. The building was secured with guards and special codes for the elevator. Freddy was greeted respectfully but there was nothing friendly in the look she received.

''This is my wife, Simpson.''

''Yes Sir.''

It was obvious that Lena was quite young but she knew how to dress-up appropriately. Freddy had made it clear that when she met his father, she was to be 'ladylike'.

The inside of the building took her breath away again. They were let out of the elevator facing into a large foyer. Windows were everywhere.

''Wait here,'' Freddy commanded. Lena sat on a chair and tried to look self assured but inside she was a mass of crawling nerves. She watched as her husband strode down the hall to a room. He drew a deep and ragged beath, knocked briskly and went in. The sound of a voice could be heard booming down the hall.

There was hushed talk for a few minutes. Lena could hear the mumble of suppressed anger. There was the odd word which carried into the foyer where she waited. The window view was breathtaking. Rather than evesdrop on the conversation, she moved closer to the windows and allowed the New York skyline to absorb her full attention. Before long she became aware that the voices were being raised with increasing intensity.

''I have no reason to continue to support you. You are lazy and unproductive. I asked you to complete a simple business transaction. I am trying…. to build a corporation here, something for you and Eddy, but he's a drunk and you are….? Why can't you finish something, anything?''

''Only what pleases me.''

''Pleases you? When will you stop acting like woman and be a man?''

''You think I am not a man because I don't want to be like you?''

''Because you are just like your mother and you act just like her.''

The tirade which followed was filled with bad language. The tone shocked Madeleine with its intensity. She understood why Freddy never wanted to come home.

''Don't talk about my mother. You killed her with your demands just like you want to kill me. I don't want to work for you. Leave me to pursue my own dreams.''

''What dreams, you lazy son of a b****! Do your dreams include taking my money for doing nothing?'' The attack went even further downhill from there.

Madeleine had been verbally and sexually molested by Guy. He had used every means possible to gain intimate access to her. In all her years, she had never heard anything like the language and abuse which Edgar Raeburn poured on the head of his son. When Freddy interrupted the unwelcome tirade which he had obviously heard before, he pathetically tried to say that he had gotten married. Before he could give the details, Edgar put the final nail in the coffin of their relationship.

''What?'' he shouted. ''How dare you decide who to marry! I told you that you must wait until any girl has been vetted by me, you asinine fool.'' Edgar halted, before narrowing his eyes. ''Are you sure it's a girl?''

The sneer in the voice was both insulting and menacing before it rose again to an angry fevered pitch. ''Everything rests on your ability to produce the right heir for me. Your marriage to a slut from the sewers of New York has just destroyed everything. Get out of my sight and stay out!''

Lena turned away and stared out the window as those last words were uttered. She wanted to run away and hide. It was impossible to believe that any human could talk to another in that way. Surely Freddy would come out and take her away, she thought. She didn't intend to live with any one who acted that way, especially to his own son. Lena's heart melted for the despair he must be feeling. Before she could say another word, she saw Freddy stride past her. He didn't say a word. It took a few seconds for her to realize that he had gone down in the elevator. Lena frowned wondering if she should wait or follow him. Perhaps he had forgotten she was waiting. She wanted no chance of running into Freddy's father.

Lena scurried over to the elevator and pushed the access button. There was nothing inside to tell her where to go. The elevator seemed to start downward as soon as the doors closed, startling her with the sudden movement. It stopped automatically on the first floor. Freddy was nowhere to be seen. She approached the security guard and asked if he had seen her husband leave.

''No Miss. He might have gone to the garage for his car.''

''But he left it in front.''

''The concierge would have parked it below Miss.''

'I see.'

But Lena didn't see at all. Freddy was nowhere to be seen. She was alone and vulnerable again. There was no way she could go back upstairs again. She had a few dollars in her purse and the ID card which said she was Lena DeLané. Life had already taught her plenty. She would find her way. Mostly, she vowed then and there never to trust Freddy or any man again.


	18. Chapter 18

Blunt XVIII

Freddy entered the elevator from the garage entrance with the details of his marriage in hand. He was furious with his father for shouting then belittling him. They had almost the same argument each time Freddy left New York for extended periods of time. Edgar, for his part, hated those activities which occupied his son and kept him outside of the home. The Patriarch was uncompromising and tyrannical. His patience was reduced even further because of his ;osing fight with Gabriel for control of the cult holdings. Neither of his boys wanted anything to do with him. Edgar Jr. found his solace in alcohol and Freddy just stayed away.

As the elevator sped upwards Freddy thought about his marriage. Surprised by his willingness to marry Lena, the reluctant groom realized that he was ready to settle down. He had a lot of fun with his new wife in Florida. Their physical encounter shocked him. In all his life he had never been intimate with a woman. The struggle with his addiction and clothes fetish made it difficult to sustain any relationship for long periods of time. He was a loner. Somehow Lena saw beyond that facade and allowed him to be anyone he wished. If he was capable of love, then it was thanks to her for sharing a free spirit, mature beyond its years.

Freddy resolved that after showing his father the licence attesting to the marriage, he would take Lena and find someplace else to live. Unknown to Edgar Sr, Freddy had purchased a small condo in lower Manhattan. He would evict his tenant and move in there with her. In the meantime, they could stay in his rooms on a lower floor. If his father would only leave them alone they might have a chance. ultimately Freddy believed the papers would show that Lena was not what his father thought.

The door opened to the suite. He expected to find Lena seated exactly where he left her but she was nowhere to be seen. His heart leapt. Suppose his father had already sent her away or abused her. He strode down the hall ready to do battle again if any harm came to his wife.

'Here is the damn certificate,' he said bursting into the room. 'I am married and plan to stay that way. Now, what have you done with my wife?'

Edgar didn't answer right away. He stared at the paper noting the name and birth data. "She is from Canada?"

"That's what it says."

Edgar threw back the paper. "Not good enough!"

"Just like everything in my life as far as you are concerned. I don't need you or your money. Just tell me where she is. I am done with you." Frederick's tone had changed from his usual pleading whine to a voice of strength he almost failed to recognize. The words were calm and measured. Edgar Sr. looked up in surprise.

''I did not see her. Didn't even know she was here. If you don't see her, go and find her and come back. We'll talk.''

Frederick went back out into the foyer and looked for his wife. He walked down the long hallway to the separate quarters where Edgar lived. He looked in every room but it was a futile search. He knew Lena would never sneak around without permission. He went to the elevator and pressed the intercom.

''Simpson have you seen my wife?''

''She was down here about fifteen minutes ago. She was looking for you Sir.''

''Did she come back up?''

''No Sir.''

Freddy's first inclination was to ask why not and lash out at the guard. Fear was choking him. He remembered walking past her without a word, hurrying to get the marriage certificate to show his father. He had said nothing to her. In fact as his body began to recognize signs of impending disaster, he acknowledged that his moods had been foul for days. He couldn't even recall if she was happy or sad to be in New York.

The conversation with his father had been brutal but Freddy had anticipated a rehashing of everything. Their arguments were repeated almost verbatim. The conduct was typical of his father. Lena would not have been prepared to experience Edgar's brutality. No doubt she had been scared by the violence of it. Certainly she would be unaware that Freddy's intention was to simply pick up the certificate of marriage and return to confront his father.

Hating himself for a failure to be sensitive to another's needs, Freddy felt the familiar anxiety which would often draw him back to the world of drugs. He tried to fight it but could not. Fear, manifesting as anger, raged inside of his gut. Instead of returning to his father, he got in the elevator and went to his car. The pressure on the gas pedal nearly sent the car into the garage wall. Freddy turned the wheel sharply and sped out of the building, tires screeching. The sound echoed the endless scream which never seemed to leave his head.

Freddy could not say if it was days, weeks or months before he came out of his drug induced stupor. He only knew that the stench of the room in which he lay was almost unbearable. The pinpricks from the dirty needles, dotted along his veins, burned. Many of the spots were reddened, blistered or black. For most of his adult life he stayed away from the underground culture of New York. Getting his needs met, in the Big Apple was dangerous. With his money, he was an easy target for undesirable hangers-on and those selling inferior quality drugs hoping to make an easy buck. In that moment of despair, he didn't care. The flophouse which sold anything to anyone was a haven. Shared, dirty needles became irrelevant in the face of need. He wasn't even married for six months before he broke his word to Lena.

Unknown to him, Lena saw the Cadillac speed down the boulevard. It was too late to stop it by the time she realized it was Freddy. Where he was going she didn't know but she followed the direction of the car until it was out of sight. Her golden hair, extreme youth and pretty clothes soon drew a few undesirables to her side as night darkened the sky. Her face looked as forlorn as she felt. A bleached blonde with bad teeth watched the young girl walking, apparently without direction and offered to 'help out.' Relieved by the kindness, Lena allowed the woman to guide her to a nearby rooming house where the 'landlord' was willing to take money in exchange for a place to stay. It was déjà vu.

Part of her accepted, that the time with Freddy was a dream, not to be lived again. It just hurt so much to have had a taste of something beautiful only to have it snatched away. When the money ran out Lena had to work for her keep. She knew the drill but refused to engage in anything more than what she had endured with Guy or the motel clerk. She felt a need to protect that part of herself which only Freddy had known intimately. It wouldn`t be forever but she insisted. If this was to be her life's work then she would control her body's actions.

Before long, Lena was told by her street sisters that she was pregnant. The realization of it shook her badly but despite the dark circles under her eyes, the growing belly along with a flushed and healthy looking face ruled out anything but pregnancy as the cause. For awhile she continued but pregnant women were not welcome on the streets. The `landlord` offered some suggestions about community services but help for prostitutes was almost impossible. The desperation hotline call, late in her pregnancy, to Catherine Chandler, saved her life and that of her baby.'

**...∞...**

'That is your mother, is it not?'

'Yes. Yes it was my mother who gave hope to Lena.'

'It seems I owe her an even greater debt of gratitude,' Philippe stated softly, staring at his granddaughter's features.

Jacob tilted his head in silent acknowledgment. He would do no more channelling for the night. His energy was spent and Cathy, whose eyes had been shiny with the joy of her newfound self, lost some lustre with the reminder that her mother had walked the streets for a living.

`My mother will tell you that you owe her nothing,` Jacob responded firmly.

`My stepson Jason and his wife Terry, who I love dearly have a child of their own. Without Catherine's loving energy, I do not think that would have been possible. Now I hear that she saved my daughter and granddaughter. This is a gift for which endless thanks would never be enough.` He continued to focus on Cathy for a long while. `Yes, you have so much of my mother in you and Hélène also. It simply frightens me to think of what this will mean to her. Right now, we are all tired. Please, I have had the other room prepared for you. Rest tonight and tomorrow we will finish, if you are able Jacob.`

The second bedroom in the suite was as luxurious as the main room. Laid out on the bed were nightclothes and supplies for both Cathy and Jacob. The young couple were hardly prepared for the events of the night and yet Philippe had been ready with the small comfort measures.

`He`s quite remarkable KitCat,' Jacob commented when they were alone.

`Jacob, I don`t know what to say. I am speechless and yet full of questions.`

`Say nothing. Just come close and let me hold you in my arms. Reaction will set in and I don`t want you far from me.`

Jacob was right. Somewhere in the early morning hours, but before sunrise, Cathy began to sob and shake. Her whole world had been turned upside down. The strength of her husband was the only anchor available and she held on to him as tightly as possible.

`Why didn`t I see this coming Jacob? I tried so hard to dream. I don't understand what I was supposed to see. What did all those colours mean?'

'Cathy, you couldn't see this because your grandparents were unaware of it too. At least one of them had to be open and ready to receive this information. The colours represent many things but for now, I will just say that what you experienced in your dream was the moment when your grandmother felt your mother move inside of her. She was at that music and dance festival...um...uh...Woodstock. For your grandmother it was a profound moment although she unconsciously refused to acknowledge it. For your grandfather, it was the moment when he fell in love with a man and understood what his life was to be. Woodstock changed the course of their lives and sent them on their separate ways leaving their daughter to fulfill her own destiny. The situation was to remain unchanged until Philippe was compelled to reconnect with Hélène. There had to be a catalyst for their reunion. It was you, my love.'

Cathy fell silent digesting the information. She said nothing more. Her sobs faded and she soon fell asleep.

* * *

Much later, the trio met again to share a light breakfast. Jacob excused himself after the meal. He went down to the foyer to call his parents and inform them of Cathy's changing world. Keeping the essence of the story to a minimum, he outlined the facts promising to share all the details. Once reassured that the house was safe and his father was continuing to improve, Jacob took a longer breather from Cathy and Philippe. He wanted to allow them time to assess their own relationship and how to move forward. He elected to take a short walk under the guise of re-energizing his core source. In truth, he was wary about proceeding any further. There was more to share. More shocks and surprises lay ahead but the truth needed to be told.

Cathy and Philippe left the breakfast table and chose to stand near the large frame windows overlooking a busy street below. Cathy felt shy. Through the incredible power manifested in Jacob, they had been able to see the past in a way few could ever understand. To see both the good and the ugly came with both power and responsibility for those who could channel and those who receive the information. The trio understood that principle at the outset. Cathy had no illusions about the ugly in her mother or father. What she needed was the good. Despite many twists and turns in the narrative, there was much to reassure her.

Without prompting, she wrapped her arms around Philippe, loving the feel of him. He was unlike Jacob and Vincent, less bulky than Kurt but a power flowed between them which felt incredibly natural and familial. She loved that he was open to her need for physical comfort.

'I don't feel like the same person at all today.'

'To be honest, neither do I. In the past few months I have become a father, lost a daughter and gained a granddaughter. My head still spins.'

'Will Hélène like me, Grandfather?' she asked, still loving the new sound of the appellation as it rolled off her tongue.

'I can't speak for her Catherine. She is a wonderful woman. It will be painful for her to accept that Madeleine didn't die. It will bring back all her grief and guilt. She has fought me and my intuition from the beginning. _Malheureusement_... I wasn't there. She was. I will have to bring her here to you and let her decide but don't judge her at this time. She will know the truth in her heart.'

'I understand that her feelings of guilt about her daughter... my mother, will overwhelm her. Intellectually, I get it. I hope my emotions will hold out.'

'You are a remarkably self assured young lady.'

'Thank my husband for nurturing a lot of my strength. He's one in a million.'

Her words had hardly finished echoing Jacob's comment to Kurt the previous day, when her husband opened the door. Clearly he was happy to see Philippe and Cathy getting along. It was important that they establish a solid relationship. Cathy hated to share too much about her life with Lena and Freddy. She would hold back more if she felt her life was judged. Jacob was reassured that the man who rightfully acknowledged himself as her grandfather was a man of honour. Jacob joined them at the window and encouraged her to fill in some of the details.

Cathy gave Philippe a brief outline of the highlights. Much of her story felt more like low lights. She was less harsh talking about her father than she had been in the past. Revelations about Freddy`s true character and silly foibles made him more sympathetic. Cathy had misunderstood his behaviour all her life. She hadn't known that he was addicted to heroin. It seemed that he contracted HIV from shared needles. Her enlightened heart would have accepted any truth of his life. It was the apparent lies and abandonment which hurt. The fact that he loved her mother outweighed much of his morose and withdrawn behaviour towards her.

The trio resumed their seats. Jacob sat in the large comfy chair and Philippe sat on the couch with Cathy. As the sessions continued, the visions that Jacob saw, were reflected in a way that Philippe and Cathy could literally `see` the events unfold as well as hear the narrative from Jacob.

**...∞...**

'With Lena living below in the tunnels, she seemed to virtually disappear from the face of the earth. Freddy could not find her anywhere. He surfaced from his drug induced stupor with enough remorse to want to find his child bride. Against his will, he enlisted his father's support. Edgar would have been happy to let the marriage fade into nothing but forced a compromise in exchange for a better work ethic from his oldest son. The effort to find Lena was perfunctory at best but Edgar was able to play out the possibility as long as possible.

Freddy had became ill fairly soon after returning home. The HIV/AIDS epidemic was rampant. He had been told about the risks of using the shared needles. For someone so fastidious about his personal care, the lapse brought mind blowing consequences. He didn't tell his father anything but sought help at every level possible and available. The end result of his quest for a lifesaving treatment meant that he could not spend time looking for his wife. A couple of events changed the course of history.

In the meantime, Lena lived below with her daughter for nearly three years. She developed a deep and abiding love for Vincent from her first days there. As the battle for Catherine's son raged above, she stayed silent hoping that Vincent would turn to her for comfort. Once the child was returned to his rightful place, the young mother felt that two lonely people with small children could find comfort with each other. Vincent however was inconsolable about the loss of his love. Lena was also aware of Diana, who loved Vincent and lived on the periphery of his life, sharing most of his time above.

'Jacob, please stop for a moment.' Philippe was confused and unable to sustain the essence or the direction of the story. 'There is more information here that I am not aware of. I don't know where the tunnels are located. Is it a part of New York? Isn't Vincent your father? Does this mean that you and Cathy grew up together?'

The questions went on and on. Of course Philippe hadn't been privy to that part of the story beforehand. It was pointless to continue without a full and understandable accounting of life in the tunnel community. Jacob wondered how he could help Philippe to understand. It didn't take long for him to realize that the only way he could help this man, whose existence was so far removed from that life, would be to take him below. The idea took shape and held.

'Philippe, the world below is unlike anything you have ever seen. You live here. This ' he said raising his arms widely, 'is at the other end of the spectrum of life and nothing like the people below will ever know. You have to see it to believe it.'

'Then take me there. Anything to do with my daughter or granddaughter is important to me. And, just so that you know, both of you, I have been lucky both by birth and by some very good investments I made while I was doing my MBA, but I am not a snob. Take me and show me the path my daughter followed and what made her world real. I have no way of knowing the adult Madeleine except through your eyes and your words. Everything in me is open to learning. I must go back to California and face her mother with these stories. Despite her beautiful penchant for making the most exquisite music, Hélène is securely grounded in the here and now. I must go back to her with concrete facts.'

Philippe was serious but he could feel Cathy chuckle at his side. 'Grandfather, Jacob will tell you that he says the same about me.'

'_Oh ma petite-fille chérie, Dieu m'a béni à ton amour. J'espère que je peux mériter tout cela._'

'I think I will have to learn to speak French. It seems so beautiful.'

'When my heart is full, it is still hard to find the words and express them in English, no matter how long I live here.' Philippe smiled at his granddaughter before turning to her husband. 'What is your plan Jacob?'

'The entrance to the tunnel is across from where we live. Let's go home. I need to reassure my parents that we are ok and get my father's permission to take you below.'


	19. Chapter 19

'I can't believe how good you sound. What's going on?'

'I am happy.' As Philippe relayed the simple unadorned words to his longtime partner, he knew that they were both true and welcome.

'Was your new protégé as good as you hoped?' Only mild surprise coloured Vladimir's response.

Philippe had almost forgotten that he left California on a sudden whim. The half truth to his former lover and his spouse was still ringing in their ears but not his own. There was no new client, just a desperate search for the truth using the visioning skills of a young man he hardly knew. Philippe hated to lie, even a little, but he trusted that Vlad would understand.

There was no mistaking the awe-filled pride in the unexpected response. 'Her voice is exquisite. The best and sweetest I have ever heard.'

The assessment was no lie. He had heard his granddaughter sing at Jason and Terry's wedding. Although her voice was untrained, she held both tone and rhythm well. Most of the sweetness came from the knowledge of their new found relationship.

'You surprise me Phil. I don't think I have heard you say that about anyone in a long time, if ever.'

There was a long pause. Philippe struggled to hold his emotions in check.

'Vlad….I…I don't know… The truth is that I am overwhelmed.'

'Do you want me come over there? I can leave here today, if you need me.'

Philippe hadn't thought beyond the moment. He knew that his partner of over thirty years was picking up on the overflow of emotions. But, to have Vlad come to New York without Hélène would be disastrous.

'Yes, yes I do,' he responded to the offer. Relief softened his voice. 'Leave today but Vlad, I have to ask you to bring Hélène with you. It's important.'

'Are you sure? Do you need a chaperone?' The doubt and justifiable query in the voice was unmistakable.

Philippe responded as firmly as he could. 'No I don't need a chaperone but I do need you, Vlad and I'm sure. Come directly to the suites and call me if can.'

* * *

After the hasty and long overdue telephone call, Philippe locked the door of his suite behind him and went downstairs to meet up with Jacob and Cathy. They had gone ahead to organize the drive to the Brownstone. Philippe would have called his own limo service but for some unknown reason Jacob insisted on traveling in their family car. The bulky driver was introduced as Rob. He appeared to be a former serviceman and Jacob confirmed that information once they were underway.

'Rob has been a blessing to the family. There are still elements out there who want to harm us. The van is secure and has everything we need to contact the police in an emergency. You heard about the kidnapping attempt earlier this year?'

'Yes, Terry told me the story. She was amazed by Cathy's bravery. It was my first introduction to her.' The wonderment in his voice would not go away but he listened carefully to Jacob.

'The situation was frightening for all of us. It wasn't the first time we have been challenged because of who we are but I hope it will be the last.' The tone of Jacob's fervent wish was tinged with doubt.

The balance of the ride was spent listening to Philippe talk about his days in New York, attending school. He discussed the way in which he learned about his strengths. Trying to sort out his feelings in the past, helped him in the present to understand the importance of tying up the loose ends. Leave nothing to chance! Cathy listened with a keen ear to the inflections in his voice seeing some of her mother in his expressions and gestures. In a million years, she never imagined during that weekend in Saugerties that their closeness at the wedding was a prelude to this magical moment.

Their arrival at the Brownstone brought about a change in mood. Jacob's parents were surprised but pleased by the turn of events which would bring some closure to Cathy's fragmented past. Vincent and Catherine welcomed the tall esthetic man, virtually a stranger, with warmth and a great deal of curiosity. Sue was heard to remark that once or twice she had heard Terry mention 'Pops 'n Phil' during those long months when they worked on 'Gina' but other than the vague name pairing, she knew little about him.

After a bit of polite discussion, filled with dignified words of thanks to his host and hostess, Cathy invited her grandfather to join her on the upper floor to see the part of the house she shared with Jacob. Before mounting the stairs, she sent her husband a look of invitation but he smiled and shook his head.

Cathy admitted to herself that she was nervous. Walking beside her was a 'grandfather'; a relationship she didn't even know existed a mere twenty-four hours ago. In the intimacy of his suite, sharing Jacob's visions, she felt as if the whole episode was an illusion but on her own turf the reality became concrete. She felt surprisingly less in control. She was nervous of what he may think of her. Memories of her mother flooded her system. She felt near to tears. Giving voice to her feelings allowed the newness of the connection to flourish. Cathy spoke honestly, hoping that he would understand her insecurity.

'I am not sure how I am supposed to be with you. I feel ok sometimes and other times I feel scared,' she admitted.

They reached the top of the stairs. She held her breath, wondering what he was thinking.

'Tell me what scares you.'

'I don't know. Maybe I think this is all a dream. I am scared you will leave and never come back. I am used to my life now. If you make if better by being here, I don't know what I'll do if you don't come back.' The outburst was followed by a ragged breath.

'Could you love me Cathy, as your grandfather?'

'Yes….I..believe I… My other grandfather hated me most of my life and only relented on his deathbed.'

'I am not like your grandfather or your father. I didn't abandon your mother but I did unknowingly abandon your grandmother. Nothing would have given me greater pleasure than to be a part of her life and your mother's life if I had known. It wasn't meant to be. I would like to be a part of yours, if you will let me.'

The quiet and honest entreaty did more than vague promises could ever do. Cathy nodded and took his hand in silent agreement. She proudly led him through the apartment, sharing a little about her life. Among her greatest treasures was the Masters diploma, hanging on the wall next to Jacob's. His praise for her achievement was heartening.

'I wish my mother could have seen this. She didn't even know about my BA but she was kind of happy that I finished high school. Now I know where my brains came from.'

'Ah Cherie, not all degrees are a sign of brains.'

'I know, I know. There are some things which I can't let go of.'

'I hope that time will be more kind to your thoughts. Bitterness only breeds sorrow.'

'I've heard that before.'

Philippe chuckled. 'Your grandmother was a firm believer in that saying. I have tried to hold firm to that ideal but many days, c'est diffiicile.'

'I love the way you speak. Do you think I could learn French?'

'It's in your DNA. Learning how to speak should be natural.'

Cathy nodded and continued her tour, happy to keep discovering bits and pieces of possibilities. When they had seen all the rooms, she took him back to the living room and pulled out her photo album.

'Is your mother's photo in here?' he asked, excitement threading his veins.

'No. This is my life with Jacob, so far. My mother's pictures are in a trunk in the basement. When we go back down, I'll get the box.'

Feeling less and less nervous Cathy sat and showed him her wedding pictures, photos with the girls, and other events she shared with the family. The shots taken on the night of the Governor's Ball, held his gaze.

'Mon Dieu, if your grandmother could see this…..'

'What is it?'

'She wears her hair very much like this all the time. In this picture, you look just like a younger version of her. You were exquisite. I can also see how much you love your husband.'

'Yes, that night was magical. Something happened to me. I think I understood love, real love, for the first time.'

Philippe smiled in that endearing way she was coming to know and appreciate. There was something reassuring which was expressed in his eyes. They went on to share a little more about themselves before Jacob called out.

'Come and eat, you two. Then we're going below.'

No one felt much like moving after the late lunch which Sue prepared. The meal was filling and tasty.

'You are an excellent chef Sue.'

'Cooking school. I finally found something which makes me feel happy. I hope this is my last career.'

Everyone laughed. Sue was an indispensable part of the family. Her tasty and wholesome meals were too good not to be tempted into eating more.

* * *

Jacob signaled that he was anxious to finish his mental foray into the past but once again the present needed to be blended in so that there were no loose ends.

During lunch, they had discussed going below. Vincent felt it was appropriate that he be the one to escort their guest. He knew the most about the origins of the tunnel community. Over the meal they had talked about the love story of Jacob's parents and a bit of information about his young life. Vincent also shared some of his thoughts and feelings about Lena and their life below.

Later, he made no apologies to Philippe as they made their way. 'I had the capacity for only one love in my life. I learned that pretty quickly after Catherine died.'

'I am very aware of what you mean. It seems I am also destined to love only one person.'

Philippe felt no regret for his life. He was blessed in so many ways and while he might have doubts about living with features like Vincent, he could see that his host was clearly possessed of amazing kindness and strength. He had seen Vincent from a distance at the wedding and failed to notice much about his differences until they entered the tunnels. They were similar in height, although Philippe was older but Vincent moved with the agility of a much younger man. At every turn, he tapped on the pipeline.

'Just letting them know that I am bringing a guest down,' he explained.

Waiting at the entrance was Mary, Lena's midwife. She stood patiently, just as she had been when Cathy first came back below.

'Mary, this is Philippe, Lena's father and Cathy's grandfather.'

The serene face of the elderly woman expressed nothing but kindness. She held Philippe by the arms and smiled wordlessly at his face, before touching it lightly. Mary pulled Philippe forward into Father's main chambers where the old man sat, impressive in his very senior years.

'I see her in you. She was quite the young woman. We were both there when Lena gave birth.'

Philippe sat down at the table and shook Father's hand. He looked around him. 'This is an amazing place. How did you find it?'

'I believe it found me. I needed a place to escape and this felt right. There are other families of survivors here. Some are like us and others who struggle and perpetuate violence but we have managed, although a recent flood had us all scared.'

Philippe nodded. He heard the story from Jacob.

Mary and Jacob Sr. went on to talk about Lena and a very small Catherine. Their memories were limited but the talk gave Philippe an opportunity to learn more about Madeleine from yet another perspective. The stories were less harsh than the stark reality of her life above. She had been a kind and loving soul while living below, mostly helping Mary to care for babies in the nursery.

'She often confided that she would love to have another child. It wasn't meant to be.' Mary said with a glance at Vincent.

'madeleine had four other younger siblings back home in Canada. She was used to helping with children.'

Philippe shared more about his daughter's early life before reluctantly following Vincent's lead. It was time to leave. Clearly Jacob Sr. was very frail. The visit had been worth the effort. Before leaving they walked past the nursery where Cathy had spent time as a baby. The sights and sounds left Philippe with a profound sense of loss. At one time his granddaughter had lived the life of the small ones, alone with only an unhappy mother to console her. Would there ever be a time when he could feel like the gap between lost and found would narrow. Doubt clouded every step of his way back. There was so much to consider. Finding a way to present the information to Hélène would be nearly impossible. Could she handle the information? Would she accept Cathy?

Emerging from the tunnel, the late November night had fallen seeming to provide a dark answer to all his internal probing. He wondered if Vlad and Hélène were able to catch a quick flight. He could imagine his reluctant friend being unable to rush through yet another change without feeling overwhelmed. Now Philippe wasn't certain that he did the right thing but his heart wouldn't allow any further lies or prevarication to either Vlad or Hélène. They had to be told the truth.

At the back of his mind was the worry of new revelations. Jacob said there was more to the story. Philippe had absorbed so much in a short period of time. He kept hoping that there wasn't anything worse than what he had already heard. Cathy's life had been miserable as it was.

* * *

While Vincent and Philippe were away, Jacob filled in the details of the previous night. The information was interesting, but Catherine was more struck by the ability of her son to see the past so clearly. They had glimpses of his ability before. He had after all, been able to recreate the remarkable journey of their common ancestors, see the striking details of his father's unusual birth. He was able to make an almost impossible connection between the mothers of Vincent and Catherine in the past. However, the fine details of his visioning marked a change. Jacob sat with Cathy on the couch, his arm around her shoulders. Catherine curled up in the large comfy chair. Sue had retired and Mea remained in the care of her Grandmother Erin for the night. The ambience was soothing. Soft music played in the background.

Cathy stared at a small box. resting on the coffee table, which she had retrieved from the basement. In it were the simple irreplaceable treasures of her life with Lena. The box was neither ornate nor as well organized as the gift she received from Edgar Raeburn but there was no doubt that the contents were meaningful. She didn't have a lot of photos of Lena. _Would her parents still be able to recognize her?_ Cathy speculated on how they could accept her mother as an adult. Philippe and the grandmother she had yet to meet, had not seen their daughter since the age of fifteen. Cathy quickly amended her thought. Philippe had never seen her, just as Lena had never found the father who drove her desire to stay in New York. The thoughts kept swirling around in her head.

She picked up the box and took out the most recent photo, taken over seven years previously. Time had not been unkind to Lena. Her hair remained golden. Only dark circles and the perpetual lines of worry, which were almost always covered with makeup, marred her features. Cathy wondered why her mother held so much promise and yet was unable to fulfill any of her own dreams. There was nothing of note in her life, except her desire to survive.

The Raeburns held prominent places among the so called Lion Cult hierarchy. Why was Lena chosen to give birth to a child whose place in the scheme of things was out of sync? Perhaps, she mused to herself, Freddy hadn't known that he should save himself for the real Goddess or for the woman who would give birth to the Diosa. She concluded that it was a moot point since Merindia or Holly, the real Diosa, had been born to another.

She reached across his knees to hold her husband's hand, feeling the blessing of their love. She could not imagine Jacob loving Holly and being the father of her child despite his own elevated status. She hoped not to be jealous of that child. When she and Jacob decided to have their own, she promised to try to be a good mother. This unexpected connection to her past opened a door to the channels of birthing and family. For the first time Cathy was able to process her feelings around parenthood. She felt ready to be a mother. As if on cue, Jacob gave her hand a squeeze. He felt her energy pulsate through their linked hands.

Any comment he intended to make, was halted by the return of Vincent and Philippe.

'Every hour which passes, gives me yet another glimpse into the life of my daughter. What I have heard and seen since last night surpasses any information which I hoped to glean when I left California,' Philippe stated seating himself in another chair, once again facing the granddaughter he never wanted to let out of his sight.

'Are you feeling overwhelmed?' Catherine asked lightly.

'To be honest, I am. I have need of support from those people who I know and love in my everyday life. Before I Ieft the suite, Jacob, I called Vlad and Hélène asking them to join me. I don't know if they will arrive tonight or tomorrow but this is too momentous for me to be alone. I feel very selfish in my quest for information although truthfully, Hélène has been reluctant to travel this path with me.'

Vincent, who stood beside the chair which held Catherine, adopted his usual pose of holding his arm across the shelf over the fireplace while the other rested on her shoulder. He nodded his head at the words of his guest before saying what was on his mind.

'You know, Philippe, when I had a sense that Catherine was still alive, I nearly went mad with anxiety. I thought her spirit was calling me to death. When Jacob told me that she was alive, I didn't want to believe him. At first, I couldn't face another loss, another disappointment. On the journey to California, I struggled with the possibility that it would all be a dream and yet Jacob and Cathy kept me sane and helped make my journey possible. My Father, who has always been overprotective of me, pushed me to take the chance and do something I had never done in my life. I understand perfectly what you may be feeling and also the need for your own supports.'

'Thank you Vincent. I think I needed to hear that.' Turning to Cathy, he continued to assess what would be best for everyone. 'Ma Petite-Fille, I am as anxious as you to hear the rest of the story but I think for tonight, we should call a halt. I hope you will understand?'

'I do. I am safe and comfortable. Jacob?' Cathy stared into the eyes of her husband, giving her unspoken agreement to accept whatever he thought best.

'I am just a conduit for information. In the morning, I will go to the office for awhile to catch up. When Vladimir and Hélène arrive, call me. We can meet here or at the suites.'

* * *

Later that night, as they lay cuddled together in bed, Catherine asked Vincent about his comments.

'I had a sense of you my love. Somewhere I could hear your voice calling. I wanted to will myself to death.'

'Is it possible that I saw you coming to me but not in a real way? I hardly remember now but I tried to stop you.'

'That's it! You did! I saw fear in you. I thought she can't be dead if she's afraid.'

Vincent turned over to capture his wife, holding her and rocking back and forth. 'Imagine this connection we have. We aren't meant to be separate from each other. This second chance is a gift, an exceptional gift. We are seeing the same joy come to Cathy. I hope she will know that we are given but one second chance to find happiness.'

'Why do you say that Vincent? Some people try over and over again to reach a compromise which promises happiness. Should we not keep trying?'

'We are not meant to try. Every possibility is there in front of us. Seeing the opportunity and accepting the reality of it…well that is the chance, not grasping at false ideals.'

'My philosophical husband, I love you so much.'

* * *

Just as they had done in the morning, Jacob insisted that Rob return Philippe to his condominium. The newly disposed grandfather was reluctant to leave Cathy behind. She was so precious to him. His thoughts ran to the events at the wedding of Jason and Terry. He remembered how she had come up beside him and introduced herself. He thought then that she was so beautiful. Their immediate connection felt natural and so uplifting. When she sang later in the day, Cathy had reminded him of his mother in many ways but the more time he spent in her company, the more he realized that she was like Hélène but most like Hélène's father.

Before leaving the Brownstone, he begged for a photo of her taken the night of the Governor's Ball and one of Madeleine as an adult but not so far away from the time of her flight from Canada. He would use them to help persuade Hélène that the possibility of survival existed. How he would prove it beyond a shadow of a doubt remained elusive. Pictures don't tell a story. They only capture a moment in time.

Frederick, Cathy's natural father, who Philippe observed in another photo, looked like a rogue with his dark wavy hair and brooding good looks. Jacob's story removed the stigma of the homosexual father but then her grandfather was definitely gay. Philippe laughed at himself and at the way life has a penchant for throwing curves when a fast ball is expected.

He seriously considered how to present the information to Hélène. Vladimir would not be too concerned except for the emotional outcome but Hélène would have resignations, questions, and issues which could not be solved quickly or easily. If she failed to believe that her daughter Madeleine survived and didn't want to return home, then she would not accept a granddaughter. Most of the blame could be laid at the hands of Guy, Madeleine's stepfather but Hélène acknowledged feeling complicit in not sensing or recognizing the burden of his behavior and the impact on her daughter. Philippe knew she could never forgive herself.

The thought of Guy brought up another question. 'What to do with the pedophile who ruined his daughter's life. Vladimir had ideas, none of which felt right to Philippe. He would wait and see. There were other children to consider who already dispossessed their mother for breaking up the family. He wanted to do nothing more to jeopardize her relationship with them. His thoughts were so intense that he found himself leaning forward in the seat, unable to relax.

His intense attitude prompted Rob to comment. 'Almost there, Sir.'

'Thanks Rob.' Philippe didn't know whether to be worried or relieved.

At the front desk, the night clerk informed Philippe that his family had arrived. Philippe felt the relief which seemed to evade him all day. His engaging smile was ready and the warm embrace from Vladimir only added to his comfort zone. The relief was short lived.

From out of the bedroom, where her unknown granddaughter has slept the previous night, emerged Hélène. Her eyes were blazing. She unleashed a torrent of French which would have shamed even the most hardened prison guard.

'_Que __penses-tu __Philippe__? __Es-tu __fou__? __Comment __diable __voulez-vous __me __sauter __à la __mi-__caprice __et __Voyage __à travers __ce __putain de pays __avant de revenir __comme si __je __suis un __morceau __de __détritus__, __une chienne __de rue __pour vous __de __jeter __autour__. __Je suis __malade __et __fatigué __de __ces conneries __et je __veux __rentrer à la maison__.'_

'Go home? Not now Hélène. Please?'

'Immédiatement! I'll drive from here if I have to.'

Philippe sank into a chair. He expected some opposition but this was more than he could bear. Tears filled his eyes. The day had already been too much.


	20. Chapter 20

Blunt XX

Following his usual custom, Jacob awoke early and placed himself at the foot of the bed sitting cross-legged. He looked like a bird on a perch protecting his nest. There was nothing birdlike about his countenance. He had all the majesty of his leonine heritage. The events of the previous two days had taken a toll on everyone, especially Cathy. Despite the life altering circumstances which came with the new knowledge, Cathy seemed the most energized, open and accepting. Jacob was so happy there was no return to her usual state of self deprecating honesty, doubt and worry. Indeed, the appearance of a 'grandfather' who had all the manners and behaviour of a kind and loving soul, seemed to build strength and confidence in his wife.

Cathy's sleep appeared restful. Jacob watched the shimmering hues of her aura in the early morning semi -darkness. The colours were exquisite. He sensed her mother's spirit hovering above her. Lena's spiritual energy was yellow -white, clearly directing a loving light on her daughter. Jacob was awed by his ability to see the beauty of the soul's function in this elevated state. Cathy's body became bathed in the light before it swirled upward and departed from the room. Jacob hoped that Lena's spirit would make its way to the two people who gave her life. Philippe and Hélène would need an energy infusion somewhere in the strength of a small miracle to heal the breach of their separate lives. The birth of their daughter, her miserable life and subsequent death, lay like a stone between them.

Jacob could feel the vibration of anger fuelled by the apparent unnecessary cross country travelling which upset Hélène. He didn't know her but Jacob sensed that fear drove her fury towards Philippe. He could imagine the pain of learning that a daughter she thought dead had, in fact been alive. Jacob was deeply empathetic to the dilemma facing her. After all, he and his father were shocked by the appearance of Catherine after so many years. Jacob's head was swimming with memories of his own wondering if Hélène would feel the same. All he could do was pray for Hélène and Philippe who would have to navigate the murky waters of their relationship past and present when everything came to light.

In Jacob's own present circumstance was Cathy who would soon be stirring and reaching out for him in the early morning light. Much as he loved looking at her through the lens of his special gifts, nothing was more powerful than her touch on his naked skin. He uncoiled his body from the foot of the bed and lay down so that he could stretch out his long legs beside her. In a couple of hours he would have to get up and head out to work. In the meantime, her nearness brought a singular peace to his life.

* * *

Philippe rose from his bed. He tried too hard to sleep but he had been left with a pounding headache and much soul searching. The argument with Hélène was prolonged and bitter. Any feeling she had, any theory she harboured about their early relationship, was shredded to pieces the previous night. Her anger about the cross country travel knew no bounds but it was just a prelude to the real resentment and hurt; years of living with a man she hated, raising children with a man she didn't trust and years of yearning for a man who couldn't love her. Philippe listened to all of it. The venom was toxic and viral. It spread like wildfire along his veins. He should have expected it. Years ago, the pain of it would have been his undoing. Only the light in his granddaughter's eyes helped him to withstand the challenge from her, as yet unrevealed, grandmother.

Vladimir had retired long before the venom spewed. By habit, the former policeman had tended to go to bed early for most of his life. The longstanding issues between Philippe and Hélène were irreconcilable. Vladimir's presence only added fuel to the fire. He would be more helpful comforting his partner in the aftermath of the storm than trying to be a referee in a clearly personal conflict.

Indeed, after the emotional maelstrom Philippe and Vladimir talked for a long time, trying to diffuse the implications. Philippe was honest with Vladimir, outlining the full story, something he had not done with Hélène. Vladimir agreed that she was probably not ready to know the truth, may never be ready but both men thought of the healing agency of truth and how much it would mean to her if she would allow it. It could not be done without the intervention of a granddaughter who yearned for a viable family history.

Eventually the men drifted off to sleep but after a couple of hours, Philippe was up, pacing unable to relax. He needed an instrument, something to play, music to listen to. The beautiful piano which had a room of its own in California was not in New York. Philippe kept a guitar in the condominium suites. He went to the closet and withdrew it from its case. Taking care not to disturb his partner, he went to the living room.

The walls of the old building were solid. He could play softly without disturbing either Hélène or Vladimir. In a moment of release, he felt a strange sense enter his intuitive field of knowledge. It was like being bathed in a soft flow of air. Without thought his fingers found the frets and strings. Rather than moving towards familiar chords he found himself playing that song which Cathy sang at the wedding. She had said it was her mother's favourite, perhaps the only song Madeleine, as Lena, had held on to from the past.

'_Imagine music as a thread from past to present,' he thought. 'Would Hélène recognize the significance of the phrasing if she heard it from the lips of her granddaughter? Does Cathy sing it as her mother Madeleine learned it from her mother Hélène?' _

Philippe didn't know where the knowledge came from but he added it to the arsenal of tools he would use in the morning to convince Hélène that a possibility existed if she would open up her bruised and aching heart again. The previous night, he almost had to physically hold her to prevent her leaving. Tears overflowed from her lovely eyes even as they blazed fire. Whatever Philippe had in mind about taking on a 'new student', she wanted no part of it. She spent her last reserve of life force arguing against any further involvement in his life. Philippe felt her slump into his waiting arms. It was definitely not an agreement to acquiesce to his wishes. He led her to the door to the second bedroom and encouraged her to sleep.

'I promise Hélène, tomorrow you will be pleased to come this far and listen to this delightful girl sing. Forgive me for being inconsiderate. I forgot that you are not used to getting up and moving across the country at a moment's notice.'

There had been no response to his apology.

Philippe continued to allow thoughts to flitter in and out of his consciousness. They were not wholly unproductive; just musings from the depths of uncertainty and sorrow which he would recall if needed. Knowledgeable fingers plucked aimlessly on the guitar strings. Occasionally a few words would accompany the notes but he could not formulate a verse. The chest discomfort which frequently hijacked his energy returned. His heart was agitated and yearning for solace. He searched deep in his mind for a piece of music which would soothe the anxiousness. Breathing between the rapid beats, his long elegant fingers found the Ave Maria. He leaned back against the cushiony depths of the couch, pulled the guitar close to him and played the sacred melody until his fingers could move no more.

* * *

Hélène cautiously opened the door to her bedroom and peeked into the living room. Her foul mood of the previous night was replaced with guilt. She hated change. All she ever wanted was an ordered life with someone who loved her. Instead she wound up with a pedophile whose behaviour resulted in the death of her child conceived with the only man she had ever loved.

Philippe had not been unkind to her but his lifestyle wasn't hers and the longer she stayed in his orbit the harder it was to return home. She had fought with him and spewed out all her complaints in a way that she had never done with the Guy. Philippe hadn't deserved her rancour and yet she made him responsible for her years of unhappiness. The hateful words had placed an unfair burden on his shoulders. Even his later contrition had not been able to soothe her savage breast.

After a restless night she awoke early, regretful to the depths of her soul for hurting Philippe in the way she had. The sun was just rising, sending some light to the edges of the blinds which covered the windows. She looked around wondering if she should leave and go home just as she had threatened. Her presence was not helpful to either of them.

Over the top of the couch she could see the neck of a guitar. She vaguely remembered hearing music playing at some point in the night. Her ear was sharp and able to detect even the most subtle sound. She made her way over to the couch, surprised to find Philippe sound asleep. One arm was wrapped around the body of the instrument, the other hung loosely towards the floor. His face had lost its usual tension and he slept on without stirring.

On closer inspection Hélène thought he looked pale. She touched his face feeling the cold, dampness of the skin. She took the limp arm and felt anxiously for a pulse. She found none. Her first instinct was to scream. She did so, loudly enough to rouse Vladimir from his bed. He threw open the door and looked at the image of his lover, pale and semi-conscious, sprawled out on the couch. He ran forward and dropped to his knees. Two fingers quickly found the carotid artery in the neck. It was fluttering like the wings of a hummingbird.

'Is he dead?'

'Hélène, go into the bedroom and look on the bedside table. You will find two bottles of pills. Bring them to me immediately!'

She did not stop to ask any further questions. Hélène found the pills. She reached out to grab the bottles. There was a photo underneath one of the bottles. Hélène glanced at it quickly before picking it up. She returned to the living room and handed the medicine to Vladimir who quickly opened one bottle and took out a pill which he placed on Philippe's tongue. The photo fell from her hands as she realized that it was one taken of her when she was younger. Hélène stooped down to pick it up. She did not remember taking it. Her eyes quickly glanced at it but the focus was on Philippe and his very worrisome pallor.

'Can you tell me what's happening Vlad?'

'He suffers with atrial fibrillation from time to time, especially when he is stressed. He should not have been out here without his medication.' The tone put blame where it didn't belong but Vlad was concerned. Philippe could have died. Who knew how long he had been lying there bathed in a cold sweat and unable to move?

Vladimir removed a pill from the other bottle and placed it under the tongue. He moved his arm behind Philippe's shoulders and pulled him up a little, talking softly, pleading for a return from the twilight world between life and death. All the while he was checking for a pulse, waiting for it to resume its normal tattoo. He was seconds away from a 911 call when Philippe stirred, drawing in a huge, unnatural breath which brought some colour back into his face.

Vladimir was not as calm as he pretended. Strong arms enveloped his partner with the first sign of normalcy. Time passed slowly while Philippe recovered his equilibrium. Hélène turned away to conceal the tears in her eyes, hiding an envy for the love the two men shared.

She looked again at the picture wondering when Philippe could have gotten her photo. On closer inspection she saw that the photo wasn't of her at all. It was obviously taken recently. She vaguely recognized the face but couldn't place it. She turned from her contemplation of the facial features at the sound of Philippe's voice.

'I am sorry Vlad. I just felt too weak to get up and get my pills. I was hoping it would pass.'

'You fool. If Hélène hadn't come out, who knows what would have happened?'

'I would have gone gentle into the morning,' he misquoted wryly.

'That's not even funny.'

'It wasn't meant to be, mon amour. I'm sorry for saying it. Where's Hélène?'

'Philippe, I am here. I am so sorry. I said so many things to you, harsh things you did not deserve. I had no idea you were unwell. I'm sorry.'

'Peu importe désormais. Mieux pour tu d'être honnête.'

'I wasn't honest Philippe. You were a scapegoat for my own shortcomings. I have not even been honest with myself. Are you alright now?'

'No I will pay for this with some weakness for a day or two. I think I need to eat. Why don't we have breakfast together, then we can see the young lady.' He paused knowing what was coming from his partner. 'No Vlad, I will not put it off. This episode has taught me even more about the importance of getting things done in the moment.'

'Philippe, before we eat, can you tell me who this is?' she said handing the photo to him.

Vladimir got up to order breakfast. He hoped there was no further trouble brewing. He had forgotten that the photo of Cathy was on the bedside table. His concern over Philippe removed his normal caution otherwise he would not have sent Hélène into the room. A look of contrition and shrugged shoulders were the only signs of apology as he made his way to the internal phone.

'This is the young lady who will sing for us today,' Philippe commented, staring at the picture of their granddaughter.

'I thought for a moment it was a picture of me taken years ago but the gown is one I never had and she seems tall. She wears her hair in the same way as I do. What's her name?'

'Cathy. Catherine really but her mother-in-law has the same name so she shortens hers. She was dressed up for a ball.' The tone was deliberately off hand.

Hélène was puzzled by the casual way in which he spoke without expanding on the information. She didn't pursue the matter.. Philippe still wasn't well, although it seemed that he had a few of these episodes before and weathered them without much effort. She noticed that Vladimir was cautious and watchful but not solicitous. She tried to be the same. The episode frightened her. Even without any anger lingering from their argument, to lose him now would be disastrous.

* * *

'Jacob, I am afraid that this meeting will not be as easy as I thought. Hélène was very angry last night. Today she is more accepting but still wary of meeting anyone else. Do you wish to come here or should we meet at your home?'

Jacob paused before responding. He detected a tone of weakness in Cathy's grandfather. In a flash, the episode of heart palpations came to him. He could see inside the heart and knew the cause without having to make any further assessment.

His response was measured. 'There are two issues here Philippe. It will be one thing to gain the confidence of Hélène but there is also more information waiting to be channelled. The outcome needs to be addressed. I can't monitor the events or prevent the story from coming out once I get started.'

'Do you have any idea of the content?'

Philippe could almost hear the smile in Jacob's voice. 'I don't. I will hear the information with you. I sense your worry. Is there something else you need to tell me?'

'I don't know if I have the strength to cope with much more. My heart...'

'I know Philippe. I am going to send some energy to you. Accept it. You will feel better. Cathy and I will come to you.'

Jacob made up his mind to keep this a very private matter. If things didn't go well, they could always leave. In his mind, this day would be given to Hélène. She needed to reconcile her reality with the present. The rest of the story would wait. He paused for a moment, closed his eyes and sent a wave of healing energy to Philippe. In his mind he kept a picture of the heart, sensing its uneven firing from the nodes. Jacob tempered the flow from his hands so as not to overwhelm the normal beat. He felt a level of satisfaction and knew it was time to stop.

He turned his attention back to the case file in front of him. The pile on his desk was becoming increasingly smaller. He hoped that Kurt would be happy, although deep inside Jacob knew that the route to making Kurt happy was near impossible to negotiate.

Jacob continued to work diligently against his own timeline. He wanted to get through a certain amount of work before Cathy came to pick him up. A quick glance at his watch told him that it was almost time to call her. Rob would bring her from home to his office.

'_One last chart_' he sighed into the open docket lying on his desk. Before he could scan the contents, the door to his office opened.

'How are ya making out?'

'Good thanks.' Jacob looked up at the same time, mildly surprised to see his boss standing at the door. 'This is the second time in as many working days that you've come into my office. Glad to see you but ….is anything wrong?'

'When you see me, it's because I need a break and this is a good hideout. Nobody bugs you.'

'Are you serious Kurt? That's why you're here?'

'No Jacob. I had a call from your wife. She says you're late.'

'I know. I am trying to get ahead of this pile on my desk but for some strange reason, it seems to grow over night.'

Kurt walked into the small office and shut the door behind him. 'Did you notice anything about these cases?'

'Yes, apart from the fact that they all seem to have my name **on them, in them** are other semi-familiar names and organizations which keep cropping up.'

'I believe we have another lucrative money laundering scheme going on. Certain information seems to keep coming up in a small group of perps. I am a little more worried about this one. Do you have any ideas?'

'I do. My mother is engaged in voluntary work with some of these same folks. From what I can determine, they are not criminally implicated but seem to be unaware that their activities are being monitored. If their low end people keep falling into the hands of the law, what's happening at the top?'

'Your mother? I didn't know she was working. Did Smirconish get to her?'

'Yes, you know they're old friends. Remember he came to the wedding? She hasn't been happy about the working committee she's assigned to. I don't like her getting involved but….'

'Look Jacob…now isn't the time to discuss this, but we _will_ talk about it. I don't know what Howard was thinking, getting her implicated with these people who work on the fringe of the law.'

'My mother isn't likely to take risks you know.'

'You should know better than anyone that her desire to do the right thing will pit her against unscrupulous people. She doesn't have to take a risk.'

Jacob nodded. He could sense that Kurt was having the same concerns. Failing to comment implied a tacit agreement with his boss. Kurt's eyes narrowed.

'I am aware that you and Cathy have something important to do today. I really came to talk about your wife. She asked me to come to the meeting with the both of you. Do you mind?

Jacob's eyebrows drew together. 'Did she say why?'

'No. When she asks me to be there for her, I just trust her if she says she needs me. I know that you're quite capable of looking after her. It must be something else. Do I need to bear witness to something?'

'I think it's just about trust, as you say. We will be going into an emotional tsunami. I don't expect her to come out unscathed. She needs support because I may not be mentally available to her.'

'I see.' Kurt didn't really see but he suspended any number of questions. 'I'll be there. I have about an hour or so to spare but I have to get back after.' Kurt's hand turned the knob on the door. He threw his final comment over his shoulder on the way out. ' Call my secretary when you're ready to leave.'

Despite the need to hurry up, Jacob leaned back in his chair. He brought Cathy's face into his vision. He could sense that she wasn't unhappy but her cautious nature would lead her to arranging backup. Someone as solid and stable as Kurt was a good choice. If the grandmother rejected her right away and Jacob's attention was elsewhere the gruff, but kindly man would support her. Instead of being upset by her decision, he supported it wholeheartedly. Channelling information from the past often left him weak and out of sync with the present. Cathy would need a support. Kurt was a good choice.

* * *

'Are you nervous?' Jacob whispered a little later, getting into the van beside his wife.

'Yes, but I also feel strangely calm…like this is meant to be. Jacob, promise me that we will not push this lady to acknowledge that I am her granddaughter. I will do whatever Philippe thinks best but if she asks questions, let me answer. I am the best person to tell her about my mother. There are things she will know about Lena or want to know. If I answer, it will feel more real to her.'

'My darling KitCat, I know this is a personal undertaking but I am so proud of you for letting your sensible, educated side, analyze the best way to manage this situation.'

'I feel anything but sensible and educated. I am just a nervous kid again.'

Kurt, who was trailing behind Jacob, climbed into the van and caught the last of Cathy's words.

'I don't know what this is all about but I have never seen you falter Cathy. If you do, I will support you in what ever way I can.'

Jacob and Cathy went on to share information about the events leading up to the need for his presence. If he was surprised by the story, the jaded counsellor learned to temper his response with thoughtful questions.

'So you know that your grandmother exists but she doesn't know about you?' he summed up quickly.

'Exactly. I don't want her to feel... hijacked by our presence. As far as she is concerned, I am auditioning for Philippe. I don't think I will be able to sing but I hope she'll see something in me which triggers the right questions.'

'Other than Jacob's visions, do you have any hard proof of your mother's existence before New York?'

'My other grandfather, Edgar Raeburn, kept the birth chart which he created for my mother. If you know anything about astrology, you will know that accuracy of date, time and place is critical. I found it at the back of a remembrance book which he gave me. It took a while to figure out what it was. When I did, everything fell into place.'

'Are you sure you don't want to come back to work for me?'

'Oh Kurt, my life is so full and you already have my husband.'

The trio ended the trip on a light note. Their laughter helped to diminish lingering nervousness. The lovely old building with its ornate exterior and lush interior was intimidating enough. They were shown into the elevator by a uniformed guard, who remembered them from the previous visit. As they stepped off the elevator, Cathy could see Philippe, her grandfather, waiting down the short hall, standing expectantly at the open door of the condominium. His smile was reassuring. None the less, her heart fluttered in fear. Only the touch of her husband's hand and Kurt's reassuring presence allowed her steady pace towards the fulfillment of her destiny.


	21. Chapter 21

Blunt XXI

Hélène stood just inside the door. A surreal ambience permeated the impromptu get together. She sensed anticipation and excitement. A surprising aura of protectiveness hovered around the young woman. Hélène did not experience the same sense from Philippe during his work with Kayleah. There was no doubt in her mind that Cathy would have an outstanding voice or exceptional potential. Hélène was convinced that Philippe knew how to pick out only the best. If Cathy's talent matched his words then Hélène would provide an honest opinion of the potential. A fresh, untrained voice would be a joy to work with, if that's what Philippe wanted. Despite that, Helene felt an urgent pull to return home to take care of her personal business before she could engage in any new, long-term projects. Her mind wandered to the dingy Montreal bungalow which seemed light years away from the present moment. A fluttering of nerves alerted her to movement down the hall.

She watched as Philippe moved forward, a smile of delight lit up his face. Two slender arms reached out to him. The girl was tall. Lovely reddish brown hair hung well below her shoulders. The ends were curly and full. They bounced with a life of their own. Hélène noted how reluctantly Cathy released herself from the hug before turning a smiling face to Vladimir, hugging him in turn. Behind her was a taller man with a halo of stunning hair.

'_My God, he's beautiful,'_ she thought.

Golden waves, flowed out from his head. The colour was like the rising sun on a summer day. Hélène remembered seeing photos of the pair in California. They were the most beautiful couple she had ever seen. Dragging her eyes from the unusual hair, she watched as the young woman turned from Vladimir, her eyes searching the room. Hélène, who had been off to the side, moved forward, a ready smile on her face. She was halted in her tracks. It was not admiration for the grey pants suit topped by a short jacket. The suit fit like a glove over the slim body. Nor did she see something in the slender face and dark eyes to prevent her moving forward. In a flash, Hélène's thoughts turned to her father. Unsolicited, memory of his kindly loving nature returned to her full force bringing tears to her eyes, a circumstance which surprised and dismayed Hélène. The emotional greeting was not in her plans but she could not stop the tears which overflowed.

'You must think me silly Cathy, to have tears in my eyes but for a moment, I thought of my father and the memory overwhelmed me.'

Hélène felt both hands lifted and squeezed gently. 'Don't worry Madame. We can't always control our memories. I am pleased to meet you, tears included.'

'You have such a lovely voice. You must be a wonderful singer.'

'You know the two are not always reconcilable?'

'Smart too! Yes I know but I sense that is not the case here.' Hélène laughed lightly before turning to be introduced to Jacob.

'I thought Philippe was tall but you are an amazing height. Are both your parents tall?'

'No Madame. My father is quite tall, but my mother, not so much.'

Hélène nodded smiling at his colloquialism. She was still bemused by her memories and stunned by the devastatingly handsome young man in front of her.

'This is Kurt Ootes.' Cathy said, drawing him forward to be introduced. 'He was my boss, but these last few years he's been like a dad to me.' Cathy explained, breaking the spell.

Kurt smiled before offering a very warm double-handed shake. If Hélène felt any initial discomfort in the gathering it was soon relieved by the kindness emanating around the room. Everyone else knew each other already. She was the only stranger. Instead of worrying about it, she pulled Cathy to sit beside her on the couch. Hélène looked up to find Philippe's eyes on her. He seemed very emotional but she put it down to the heart flutters he had in the morning.

Vladimir was busy arranging space for refreshments which were arriving on a covered trolley. The presentation was very elegant. Cathy smiled at Jacob offering reassurance about her own well-being. Hélène saw the exchange and marvelled at the love between the young couple. No one seemed to know where to start a conversation. Kurt, never short of words, breached the divide.

'How is your delightful daughter-in-law, Vladimir?'

'As lovely as ever! My son hit the jackpot. She'll keep him in line.'

'I have never seen a man less in need of a short rope. He is quite accomplished and a remarkable officer of the law.'

'Thank you. I am very proud of him.' The straight answer from the proud father had everyone nodding in approval and led the conversation into talk about families and children.

'Do you have children Cathy?'

'Not yet. We have been busy with careers. Jacob's parents also fostered a couple of orphaned girls. One of them suffered huge health challenges. They have kept us quite busy these past three years. We all share the same house.'

'Lovely to be a part of a close knit family. I can see that you and Jacob are very happy.' Hélène's voice held a touch of wistfulness.

'Yes we have a long history together. His parents were present at my birth but we lost touch when my mother and I moved away.'

'Sounds like a perfect story; love lost and found.'

'We think so.' Cathy turned away to take a glass of juice from her grandfather. 'Thank you,' she smiled into his eyes.

Hélène observed the interplay between Philippe and Cathy. A slight frown knit her brows.

'Madame, are you also from Belgium?' Jacob asked unnecessarily, sensing the disquiet.

'No. I am from Canada, Quebec.' She returned her gaze to Philippe and Cathy but he had moved away to get another drink. 'Please call me Hélène,' she invited warmly. 'Have you ever been to Canada?'

'No, we haven't but we hope to go one day soon.'

Hélène nodded but said nothing further thinking that the comment was merely lip service. She was surprised when Cathy continued to support the idea.

'My father travelled there in his younger days. He was an architect. Some of the older buildings provided a great fascination for him. I was reading his diary and thought I might like to revisit some of his favourite sights.'

'He was from New York?'

'Oh yes!' The exclamation could have implied anything. It was meant to put a halt to any further confidences. Cathy wanted to slow the pace of questions about her family. 'Is this your first trip to New York, Madame?'

'Yes, I haven't seen too much yet. We got in late last night. Philippe is a man who moves quickly when he makes up his mind. I didn't come here for sightseeing though. We are here to listen to you sing. Are you ready?'

'Almost. I need to speak with..uh.. Philippe privately first. Excuse me for a moment.'

Cathy rose gracefully from the couch and made her way over to her grandfather. She pointed to the guitar standing in the corner. Their conversation couldn't be heard but they saw Vladimir walk over and pick up the instrument. He and Cathy went into the bedroom, apparently to practice.

Philippe sat in the seat recently vacated by his granddaughter. Her warmth remained behind and he felt comforted. His mind wandered a little as Jacob and Hélène continued to talk about travel.

'I went to Europe when I was about fifteen years old with my Uncle but my life was very sheltered until I went to college.'

'That surprises me. You seem like a man of the world. Do you live here in New York?'

'We do. We love this city. But Cathy has lived in Florida too. I know I wouldn't want to live anywhere else.'

'I felt that way about my home, Montreal, until I travelled to California. The strangeness of winter warmth and a spectacular ocean view captured my heart.'

Hélène turned to Philippe and smiled. It was meant to generate a silent apology yet again for her emotional outburst. Her free hand was captured. For the first time Hélène felt a return of the deeper soul mate connection which had supported the friendship between them years earlier. In the background was the sound of music. To Hélène's trained ear, the voice which penetrated through the walls, generated more of the memories which she tried so hard to hold back.

'_My God, what is wrong with me?' _she thought, feeling overwhelmed with emotion. Her thoughts were halted by the reappearance of Cathy, looking serene and strangely vulnerable. She stood near an unadorned wall close to the entrance to the second bedroom while Vladimir sat on a chair at her side. There was no further conversation. Everyone sat and waited.

Just as she had before, Cathy stood immobile, waiting for something to kick start her voice. From their brief and private conversation, Vladimir understood that she would need a minute to orient herself to the situation and fill her being with the song. He had seen other singers who also needed to find their voice with and without prompting. All he did was to give her a key from the guitar string. Although her voice was beautiful, he knew that she would never be able to perform professionally without a great deal of preparation.

What Vladimir didn't know, along with everyone else was that Cathy, like Jacob was channeling her music from a source outside herself. Only her husband, sitting, smiling at her, knew that she hesitated not from fear but the need to wait for the music to find her.

Cathy raised her head from a steadying contemplation of the carpet and looked at her husband. From somewhere deep inside, she found the key to unlocking her secret self and nodded briefly before singing, in perfect pitch, their wedding song, '_A Moment Lost_'. Jacob was desperately tempted to stand with her and relive the experience but this time the song was meant to open Hélène's eyes to something beyond the voice. There was no doubt that the emotion filled words and music held the apology which Madeleine/Lena could never give to her mother. Only the spirit, which hovered around the room, could generate the connection.

Mon Dieu, Philippe! Where did she get that voice?' Hélène whispered, awestruck by its beauty. 'She sings like….my angel.'

Philippe was certain that Hélène didn't even realize what she had said. He kept his response light and so professional despite being moved beyond words. He hadn't known what songs Cathy would perform. The proud and anxious grandfather left it up to her, but she excelled even what he expected.

'My dear Cathy. That was beautifully voiced, excellent phrasing. Well done! Do you have another?'

"I do. Something a little more old fashioned. Jacob likes this one,' she said smiling at her husband.

Again, there was the initial hesitation before she launched into the old Cole Porter tune _'That Old Black Magic'_. The message was different. Cathy included a bit of playfulness as she found her rhythm. Clearly she had a good command of the genre. Philippe called a halt to the singing. Hélène was still, overcome with an emotion she could not describe.

'Take a break my dear child. Do you have another song which you can do later?'

'I do, but you're right. This has been a bit nerve wracking.'

Everyone laughed at the pronouncement. There was nothing about her demeanour which suggested nerves of any kind.

Kurt rose from his seat and went over to Cathy, surprised to find himself moved by her singing.

'It's a good thing you gave up your day job. I would hate to keep that voice from the public.'

'Aw c'mon Oats, really….you've heard me sing before.'

'But not like that. You've got talent girl.'

They moved away a bit from everyone before he spoke again. 'I have to go soon. Will you still need me?'

'I honestly don't know. I am afraid to proceed too fast. She is already emotional. I can see that she senses something in me which resonates with her. I long to hold her in my arms and just tell her I love her but I don't want to precipitate anguish.'

'You are a good girl. The fact that you haven't surrendered to the rush of sharing what you know just to get it over with, tells me that you can make this transition smoothly. I will be close by and on my cell if you need me, just call.'

'Thanks Oats. Your faith in me and your expectation that I will be strong and steady keeps me focused.'

Everyone stopped talking in order to say goodbye. Vladimir offered to see the Director down to the lobby, leaving Philippe, Cathy, Jacob and Hélène to talk about the performance.

'Have you had much experience on stage Cathy?'

'No Madam, I am a complete novice.'

'You have a unique style and poise which makes you seem professional but then you are very natural and yet unaffected by performance anxiety, despite your initial hesitation. I find you quite delightfully contradictory.'

'The performance part of me comes from somewhere inside of me which I don't understand.'

'How will we apply this to your desires Cathy. Do you want to sing professionally?'

'I…am not...sure.'

'What holds you back? You said you don't have any children. I assume you are a free agent?' Seeing the eyes dart over to Jacob, Helene turned to him. 'What do you think Jacob? Your opinion is very important here too.'

The questions were intense but Philippe had seen Hélène with Kayleah and knew that she was trying to understand if Cathy had the drive and push to make the sacrifices necessary for a professional career.

'I will support whatever my wife wishes. She has several career options. I believe she will excel at any one of them she chooses.'

'Tell me a little more about yourself Cathy.'

The moment was approaching when Cathy knew that she had to open a dialogue about her past. She glanced at Jacob praying that Kurt's words and his faith would keep her steady.

'As I mentioned, I was born in New York. My life was difficult. My mother was unable to sustain work that would keep us safe and healthy so we moved a lot. She and my father were separated for a long time because of his addiction to heroin but they reconciled when I was in my early teens and we moved to Florida. They both eventually died there. I met Jacob, just months before my mother passed away. Our previous connection drew us closer together and he proposed. The irony of our life is strange. Just as I lost my mother, he found his. It was that bond which enabled our love to grow.'

Hélène listened intently to the story. There was so much detail omitted that it seemed foolish to try to clarify any particulars of a story which held so much pain. The motivation to succeed in the music business would require a stamina and energy which could take a toll on even the most healthy and well adjusted aspirant.

'You said you moved a lot. How did you cope with those changes?'

'I don't know. I was sad, always feeling disoriented by the circumstances of our life. My mother was my only anchor and I feared losing her.'

'My dear child, what a difficult time for you! Was there no one else?'

'As far as I know my mother had no family. She suffered a trauma when she was in her teens and never recovered herself completely.'

Hélène looked at Philippe with a plea in her eyes.

'Cathy, Hélène suffered the loss of a child who was in her teenage years. Your mother's story will resonate with her.'

'I am sorry Madame. My heart feels empathy with you. I hope my story has not opened too many wounds.'

'I have tried very hard to forget. I cannot. Some aspects of this day, for some reason, feel very difficult.'

'If my singing is bringing up memories which are difficult, we can stop. I don't have to sing anymore.'

'Oh no! Please, you must sing. Your voice is lovely. Today is not about me, it's about you. I think you can succeed. I was trying to see if you have the stamina it takes to be a success.'

'My career as a social worker is also very fulfilling.'

'That explains why you are so understanding. But it would be a waste to lose your ability to oblivion of nine to five.'

Cathy laughed out loud and with a naturalness she could not fake. Hélène looked at her and frowned.

'Right now, my life is not even close to normal.' Cathy explained.

Vladimir returned. He had stopped to chat with Kurt in the lobby. 'Are we ready for round two?' he said with a chuckle.

'I am. I would like to perform the song which I did at Terry and Jason's wedding.'

'I'll play for her this time Vlad. Sit here with Hélène.'

Cathy returned to the spot and stood beside the chair. She sent a loving look to her husband and her grandfather before taking a deep breath.

'This song, Madame, is for my mother.'

There was the inevitable pause. The first note of the country tune was like a blast from the depths of Cathy's soul. The sound vibrated around the room. Only the gasp from Hélène interrupted its resonance. She rose from the couch and went to stand beside Cathy, listening, watching in stunned silence. When the last note faded from Cathy's lips, she closed her eyes but the tears which mirrored those of her grandmother could not be halted.

'Who are you?' The question was barely whispered into the silence which followed.

'I am the child of Lena and Frederick.'

'Lena who? Who was she?'

'Lena Delaney. That is all I know of who she was Madame, except the date of her birth.'

Apart from for Hélène, no one else in the room would have access to that information. Philippe was not present when Hélène gave birth. He could only guess at the date. The anxious woman was clearly as nervous to ask, as the young woman standing in front of her was to speak. They held hands together staring into each other's eyes. Hélène saw in front of her, much resemblance to the man who gave her life. She saw in the mannerisms, her other children and in the tall slim figure, she finally saw Philippe. No one else could have sung that song in the same way except for Madeleine and Hélène. For years, the lonely woman, abandoned by her lover, poured it from her heart, almost every day in the years after Philippe left. The words and melody were like an anthem to her solititude.

When she tended to the needs of her daughter, conceived with the phantom lover who disappeared from their lives, Hélène would sing out the anguish, but never in a way which would distress her young daughter. It was Madeleine's bedtime lullaby and by tradition, Cathy's own connection with her mother. Since Hélène changed the words to accommodate her own feelings, the verses had been handed down as established by the originator.

'Inside of me, I know that something has occurred which is outside of the normal events in life. If I wished a hundred thousand times for my daughter to return home by the ninety nine thousandth time, I finally became convinced it could not happen. Now, I know it will not. If you are my daughter's child, I know that she is gone and I can let go of the dream.' Hélène paused to still the tremor raging through her body before she spoke again. Cahty's response to her question would be unique to Madeleine and irrefutable.

'What is the date of your mother's birth Cathy?'

'February 22, 1970, at 22:22 hours.' The date and time were unique and irrefutable.

Hélène swallowed hard and nodded, not in agreement but in acknowledgement of a miracle. She turned to look at Philippe. She didn't need to ask him any questions. The answers were in his face. Cathy waited patiently while her grandmother processed the information hoping that the shock would not derail her courage. When she spoke, it was not to Cathy but Philippe first.

'_Philippe, tu es mon premier et seul amour. Nous avons eu un enfant ensemble que j'aimais de tout mon cœur. Je l'ai perdue par ma propre négligence. Maintenant, cet enfant de la sienne vient à moi avec amour dans son cœur. T-elle m'accepter? Je n'ai pas réussi sa mère. Je ne veux pas elle manquer aussi.' *_

'_N'oublies pas __la __femme qui m'a__tellement __quand __j'étais __un jeune étudiant__. __Quoi qu'il __femme __à nouveau__. __Elle __t'aime __ma chérie__, __parce que tout __comme toi__, elle __a __bon cœur __et __indulgent__.' **_

'Oui Philippe. C'est vrai' she responded to his comfort. Turning again to her granddaughter she raised earnest eyes. 'All I can say to you is, can you forgive me Cathy?'

'There is nothing to forgive.' The tremors did not cease with the words which passed between the Hélène and Philippe. For Cathy, the switch to French only affirmed in her mind the long connection between the man and woman who created her mother. She continued, seeing that Hélène was seeking a deeper intimacy.

'I am who I am because of the life we lived and the circumstances I grew up in. Today I am happy, my husband loves me, there is much for me to do but above all, if you accept me as your granddaughter, it will fill a very big hole in my life and yours too, I hope.'

'Accept you? My dear child, I thought that you would not accept me. I allowed my daughter to be compromised by my husband and I did nothing. I was a horrible mother and blame myself for her disappearance and death. How could you ever love me?'

Cathy did not wait another moment. She pulled her petite grandmother into her warm embrace. The hug lasted forever, the sobbing threatened to overflow but the tide of emotion once released could not be halted.

Jacob who prayed for a comfortable outcome rose from his seat and went to talk with Philippe and Vladimir. The two women moved over to the couch and sobbed their way through a précis of the many conversations to come.

* * *

_*Philippe, you are my first and only love. We had a child together who I loved with all my heart. I lost her because of my carelessness. Now this child of her comes to me with love in her heart. Will she accept me. I don't want to lose her as well._

_**Don't forget the woman who first helped me as a student. Be that woman again. She will love you because like you, she has a kind and forgiving heart._


	22. Chapter 22

Final chapters

'How can you know all this information? You said Madeleine lost her memory due to the trauma.'

Cathy hesitated. She hated to introduce information about the remarkable skills which her husband utilized to see the past. She wasn't afraid of the truth but not everyone possessed a mindset to understand channeling and what it entailed. Seated beside her was a woman who had suffered greatly and whose whole character seemed to be grounded in things concrete and safe. Cathy could understand. She held the same approach to life. Perhaps it was the shared loss and struggle which helped to cement their groundedness in life. She glanced over at Jacob, hoping he would be able to find the right words.

'Hélène, if you will forgive me, I will try to explain. I have been gifted with a remarkable insight into the past. I never knew of this special skill until my parents were reunited. To be honest, we also didn't know about Cathy's past until you and Philippe were reunited. There is an energy which flows between people. It is driven by love and woven together through a shared history. Does that make sense to you?'

'I could not be a musician and fail to understand the complex ability of sound to capture emotions and thoughts. It has been my life's work but this goes deeper than anything I could imagine.'

'I think, if you allow it, we could provide a demonstration. There is a great deal we already know about Madeleine and Frederick, but if there is something else you wish to know, something only you could understand then perhaps it would put your mind to rest.'

Hélène put her hand to her forehead. Jacob saw it as a sign that information was settling itself inside of her waiting to be released. He waited patiently and opened his own thoughts hoping to be receptive to her.

'Jacob, on the day when Madeleine came to see me, on that last day, three things occurred after she left the house. Can you tell me what they were?'

Jacob closed his eyes. Immediately he allowed his senses to take him back to that day. Instead of following the actions of Madeleine, he allowed his vision to seek out the face of her mother, horrified by the daughter's scathing indictment.

'Hélène, you sat down on the couch in your home and cried. You went into the drawer which held the legal papers for your children and realized that Madeleine had taken not just her birth information but also your passport. After much contemplation, you called a friend at the university who had access to student files and asked her to find Philippe's address in Belgium. You sat down and wrote a letter to his mother, telling her about yourself, your daughter and your fear that she may get lost trying to find her father. Because she took your passport, you assumed she would leave for the border to go immediately to New York. You called the police to inform them but they refused to do anything until she had been missing more than twenty four hours.'

Hélène said nothing. It was as if, Jacob had been sitting with her in the room. There were details even she had forgotten. She turned her attention to the father of her child who seemed surprised by the revelations.

'Philippe, I didn't know that you were estranged from your family. I never heard from your mother, nor you, but I prayed every day.'

'And I, in my ignorance knew nothing.'

'I think if we self-blame and hold each other responsible, we will never be able to move forward,' Cathy interjected sensibly.

'Oui ma petite-fille, I believe you are right.' Philippe paused, worrying his lower lip between his teeth before speaking. 'Hélène, Jacob informed me that there is more. When we sat and listened to the story, we stopped at Cathy's birth but there is additional information. I think over the next few months our granddaughter will be able to fill you in on her life with Madeleine. It is impossible to process too much in a day. However, there is a gap of four years in which some relevant details are missing. The vision sits on the threshold of Jacob's skills waiting to be released. If we have the full picture, we can begin our healing.'

A thoughtful silence followed the highly practical suggestion.

'Grand-père I wonder if you would give me your opinion on an idea?'

'Of course ma petite fille. It would be my pleasure. What do you need help with?'

Cathy rose gracefully from the couch and guided her grandfather into a corner of the room. Hélène returned her attention to Jacob but at the back of her mind she heard the voiced intimacy between Philippe and Cathy. Despite feeling a self imposed anger at her internalized pettiness, Hélène hated the jealousy which crept into her psyche. Philippe had said that their relationship was new but they spoke as if they had been friends for a long time. She kept silent and hoped that the resentment would not show. Instead, Hélène focused her thoughts on Jacob who continued to expand on his gift in reasonable tones. She quickly reassured him.

'I am not against the ability of someone to see into the past or future. I think the future always seems to be more of what we seek, but certainly, the past, as we saw today, can make a big difference. You said there is more about Madeleine?' she asked.

'Cathy's memory of the first three years of her life is, of necessity, blurred. She was young and displaced from the known world at the beginning of her life but there was also a period of separation from her mother. She wonders if it was social services who took her away. You know that Lena did not have a stable income?'

'I have read between the lines of your words and seen beyond Cathy's protectiveness. My daughter lived and did her best. I prefer to think of her in a different way. I can't mourn that part of her life too.'

'Very wise Madame. I think that you will find much to love about your daughter. My parents will share what they know of her. Philippe found it very helpful.'

Hélène leaned forward and touched Jacob lightly on the hand. 'Do you think Cathy would ever call me Grandmother?'

'You only need to ask her. Unlike many of today's young women, she calls my mother, Mom. Belonging is very important to her.'

'You really love her, don't you?'

'Beyond what I can only dream!'

If Hélène understood the depth of Jacob's dreams the simple words would have had a greater meaning. As it was, the tone and feeling only affirmed what she already saw with her eyes. She had a million questions it seemed. Much was said which she didn't understand and yet it all seemed real. Jacob excused himself to make a call, giving Hélène the opportunity to observe each person in the room. What a change in her life in such a short space of time!

'_My daughter lived. She didn't come home but she lived. She had a daughter of her own who now stands before me. Can my mind comprehend this at all?' _Hélène wondered, shaking her head.

The bewildered woman leaned back, resting herself in the depths of the cushiony couch. Into her mind came a vision of the child she let go. She hoped Cathy would have some photos. Hélène closed her eyes imagining briefly what Madeleine might have been like as a woman, managing her life and that of her child. As a mother she wished it could have been the perfect home and family. Based on the little Cathy had shared, she doubted that Madeleine had ever been happy. The truth was the neither mother nor daughter had one moment of happiness or contentment.

'Grand-mére, are you alright?'

'Cathy, Cathy, I am just overwhelmed. I have so many questions. You have aunts and uncles, cousins, to meet. I question whether I should know anymore, whether I was even ready for what I have learned but to hear you call me Grand-mére is something I never expected from a child of my daughter. This new role which you have created with that one... appellation... makes me want to see everything whether I like the outcome or not.'

Cathy smiled and resumed her seat on the couch. Philippe has promised to help me learn French. I hope you will too. He says it is in my DNA.'

'His French is much more refined than mine but I will help you. Have you actually thought about singing? You do have an exquisite voice.'

'No Grand-mére I will not sing. My only wish was to try and touch you in a way you would understand. My mother-in-law, Catherine, is working with a community group. Because of my own mother, this helping role is very dear to my heart. Mom is not strong and wishes me to be a support to her. There will be other things you and I can do together, even sing, but a career as a musician is not for me.'

Hélène didn't really care. She loved her granddaughter's voice but Cathy's simple living presence was the most important aspect of the relationship they hoped to build. The conversation went into areas in which the three principles would eventually find a path to happiness. Jacob, who said little, just observed this new dynamic in his wife's life. The feeling generated by their mutual respect for each other would go a long way to filling the gaps in Cathy's life. A rising heat in his body, signalled that it was time to start then finish the story. The energy waiting for release was one of impatience. He gave his wife a look which she understood immediately.

Vladimir had long since departed. He was not running away from the emotion of the moment but for years Philippe had been his outsider, trying to be supportive but having to step back from the demands made by Sandy in order to maintain the peace. In this moment when Philippe's relationship with Hélène and Cathy rested on very shaky ground, he had no wish to add a further burden. In his gentle understanding way he recused himself with the promise to be available should he be needed. Kurt had offered the career cop a chance to see the New York justice system from a different point of view. Since his retirement, Vladimir spent a great deal of time working with other retired cops and their families. Kurt knew just the spot which would hold his interest. If Vladimir thought Philippe needed him, he would not leave but one less person in the unfolding drama seemed right.

With Vladimir gone for the evening, Cathy seated herself comfortably between her grandparents. She held Philippe's hand tightly before reaching out to her grandmother. During the first disclosure, she had been very comforted by her grandfather's close proximity. The balance of both Philippe and Hélène added reassurance to what promised to be quite a revelation.

Cathy had never understood much of her mother's behaviour until Jacob's revelations. When they had been separated for the year, it had been a troubling time for the young girl. Cathy was barely three but the sudden wrenching from her mother and the year spent in an emotional wilderness left quite a mark on the small child. Had it not been for their closeness in later years, Cathy didn't know if their relationship would have healed. Lena was never a good mother. She lived such an intense life, always on the edge until Frederick came back into her life. Cathy hoped that the reason for the long separation did not involve any criminal activity. At the time, she was far to young to get a sense of cause and effect but later in life, she wondered whether Lena had been arrested for engaging in her 'professional' activities.

'_What a life I have lived and now here I am, so different from who I thought I was and here I am sitting between these two wonderful people who can love me because we are of the same flesh and blood. I am facing a man who makes me feel like a princess every day. I am so lucky,'_ she thought, squeezing the hands of both grandparents. She noted that Jacob had completed his preparation and seemed ready to begin. Cathy stayed quiet and listened. She felt flutters and willed herself to stay calm.

* * *

At the time of Gabriel's death, the Cult of the Golden Lion was in limbo. Three men, who dominated the forces on the east coast, should have brought the family together. Instead, each took different approaches to the opportunity presented by the premature death of the tyrant.

Frederick who could have been a leader among the men, had contracted HIV and was struggling between life and living death. He had no interest in his father's businesses. Once his addiction was under control, his life became a struggle for survival. Gabriel's whole existence had been centered on making money without regard for anything or anyone. The core of evil embedded in his psyche hastened his death but his epic battle with Vincent, the third player in the high stakes drama, was the only sighting of the Exemplar whispered about in the cult. Vincent, who reunited with his son at Gabriel's death, cared nothing for the world above which cost him the life of his child's mother and very nearly his son.

One individual remained on the periphery of the internal battle for supremacy not just of the vast empire of wealth up for grabs, but also the title of Exemplar of the cult. He was soon to make his presence felt.

Edgar Raeburn was yet another minor player. The Patriarch had cunning and skill but he was older and unable to find support among the newer generation of clan members. His family line was a minor one but he did have children early and under the properly ascribed circumstances, allowing him to secure a senior role. His sons Frederick and Edgar Jr. turned out to be useless. Neither were supportive nor understanding of their own unique role. Edgar Sr. struggled on hoping for some change which would turn the tide, not of his financial fortunes but his standing in the clan. Nothing seemed to work. In the months following Gabriel's death, he was troubled. He sensed the impending visit by another powerful clan member, a younger man, hopeful of joining forces and creating a multinational conglomerate. The men knew of each other but relationships were not cordial when vast sums of money and goods as well as humans were up for sale. Edgar took his time before he finally agreeing to meet with the upstart who dared to assume control.

The usurper actually owned the South Asian conglomerate but desperately wanted a foothold in the Americas. He was also cunning and deeply skilled in the arts of magic as well as the business world in which the cult made money. The dark haired, highly attractive, vital man knew his family history thoroughly. His own father had pushed him often and early to gain insight into the world through the development of his psychic abilities and understanding of esoteric knowledge. Kardin, as he was known, knew the time was right for him to move in on Raeburn.

In his studies of the clan history, Kardin was aware that an extraordinary man should have been born in the latter half of the 20th century who would one day rule the fortunes of the clan. If he existed there was no evidence to confirm it. Many doubted the story, because no one had seen or heard of him. Decades passed without a clear sighting. The nearly impossible birth story became a legend in the clan but by the late 1980s, few believed that such an amazing man existed except in myth. Fair to say that Kardin, with his uncanny extrasensory powers and oversize ego, thought himself to be the one.

If so, his cult responsibilities demanded that he would also have to find the right partner. Marrying or fathering the Diosa would ensure that his branch of the clan would never die. A Diosa was capable of extraordinary powers which allowed her to produce and birth the astonishing eight sons necessary for supreme control. A suitable mate was the only missing link in his carefully organized future. There were portends of the birth of a Diosa and Kardin expected to be a part of it.

When Kardin heard of Gabriel's death he planned out his next moves. Anxious to make the right choice, he traveled to India to consult with guru Ramganesh, a highly skilled man known to read the future through energy transfer. He had been one of Kardin's early teachers and the only man who was trusted completely.

'_My son, your life is set.' The old man intoned. 'The re-agent of the Diosa has already given birth. She lies below the known world dead but not dead. Find her. The evil one has destroyed her soul but not her heart. When your work with her is done, you may release her to the dead.' _

Kardin was bewildered. He could not understand how she could have given birth already. Who was the father of her child? First he would have to figure out what the old sage meant by saying that she lived in the world of the dead but not dead. Rather than being enlightened, Kardin returned to America feeling bewildered for the first time in life.

With a single mindedness of purpose, Kardin set about finding the truth hidden in the words of the sage. He delved into Gabriel's business, searching with a fine toothed comb through all his activities and holdings. He examined all business contracts. He was able to garner much information about Gabriel's last weeks. Thinking that the master mind of the clan would have had a careless hand in the outcome, he sought opinions on the weakness which brought about the downfall. Brilliant men did not make mistakes. Someone found his achilles heel.

Through some contacts, he learned that Gabriel had kept a woman named Catherine hostage for months, forcing her to give birth, then killing her. It was said that the mythical beast was the father of the child. The whispered words seemed to have an aura of truth but Kardin was not convinced. No one who actually saw the man/beast was alive and able to recount the details. Too much speculation did not add up to the truth. After much searching, it was clear to Kardin that Catherine was not the re-agent. No one could have survived the brutal birth. She was officially dead and therefore not able to be resurrected. All efforts to verify a hidden agenda or faked death led to the grave side of the slain DA. He had no reason to pursue that line of questions.

Kardin learned that Gabriel had been unable to father a child. That reason would provide a catalyst for him to physically abduct someone pregnant, kill her and then steal the child. That he chose a woman with a superior and outstanding family background, career and personal beauty, would make sense. That he would also let her die seemed absurd but Gabriel was reported to be an unfeeling monster at the best of times.

The trail of information led him to another man, Elliot Burch, who was also remotely connected to the cult, but not involved actively with its criminal workings. It was clear to Kardin that Elliot had been involved in a relationship with the deceased ADA. He was likely the father of her child. All signs pointed to a deeper relationship between the two high powered members of New York society. It was clear they had suffered a rift in their relationship at one time, but seemed reconciled. Kardin, thoughtful and introspective, weighed all the options before concluding that Catherine wasn't the re-agent and her child would not hold that special place in the lion cult. In any case, a male child could marry the Diosa but would not be able to take on her assigned role.

* * *

_Jacob paused. His inner being responded to the information with interest. Kardin had underestimated the situation. Although he wasn't dead, if Jacob had been of a different nature, their encounter in the warehouse would have led to the death of one of them. He thanked his guardians for giving him a balanced and fair minded attitude towards redemption. He sighed deeply before continuing with his journey into the past._

Faced with a dead end, Kardin decided to pursue the only other avenue open to him. He would pay a visit to his distant cousin Edgar Raeburn. He knew that there would be a silent battle of wills. Both men possessed similar skills in which in depth analysis of the psyche of people came easily. The respectful adversaries faced each other across the desk in Edgar's office. Kardin knew he had to go to Edgar. The older patriarch would not risk exposure. He was a physical coward. His loud overbearing voice and directed life force held sway only in the confines of the penthouse. Kardin had no fear of these qualities. Insisting on a meeting outside would generate suspicion and fear. Armed with the knowledge of his extensive investigation, he entered the penthouse, on guard but psychically armed.

The visit was superficially cordial. Neither man wanted to give away any weakness but of the two, Kardin had the greater ability to 'see' beyond words.

During the exchange, it was clear to Kardin that Frederick was a great disappointment to his father. In addition to failing in his responsibilities to the business interests of his father, he was also unable to support a social life. He had no wife or child, was deeply involved in the drug culture and sick with some wasting disease. The younger son was an alcoholic, with three children who carried nothing of the heritage to which they were born. Only the snively youngest grandchild, Brian, held any promise and even that was doubtful given the history of both parents. Kardin felt absolutely secure that no progeny of Edgar Raeburn would ever interfere with his own plans to take over the cult assets on the east coast of the United States as well as his current holdings in India.

'It seems you are struggling with your family, Cousin,' he remarked. The smirk could hardly be hidden.

Pique by the veiled criticism, Edgar spoke out calmly, trying to quell his distaste for the smooth talking egotistical man in front of him.

'No doubt you would like it to be so. However, my son Frederick has found a mate. I trust that they will soon, rise to meet the needs of the family.'

The remark was all bravado. The little girl who Frederick had brought home was, based on her birth chart, likely a candidate for the Diosa's re-agent but she had disappeared out of Frederick's life. Edgar had men scouring the city, hopeful of finding her but she seemed to have disappeared off the face of the earth. That his impotent son could be so careless angered him immensely. Edgar did not see himself as a factor in the girl's disappearance.

Kardin secretly felt that Frederick's 'mate' could not be the true re-agent. The sage had said that the woman had a child already. Perhaps, he thought, she mated outside the clan. If there was a child born to her, it wouldn't matter anyway. How many children she had was not as important as who fathered them. It only mattered that the sperm donor of her cult-child be the right clan member.

'I don't believe that the re-agent is with your son. If they had a child already, it would be proclaimed.'

A challenge was contained in the words. 'Here is her chart. Do you not see that she meets the criteria.'

Hardly able to contain his excitement, Kardin took a quick look at the details of the birth data. He kept control of rising excitement. This was a magnificent find. The chart was perfect. Kardin knew that Edgar did not possess the same depth of knowledge. Although he was brilliant in the arts, Raeburn lacked the intuitive nature so necessary for assessing the data on a mundane level.

Kardin sent out a word of thanks to his dead father. Kardin Sr. insisted that his young son spend time in India perfecting the chart reading techniques so necessary for getting ahead. To the younger man, a birth chart was like a magnet, since each one was unique to the person. Armed with her particulars, if she was anywhere in the vicinity, he would find her and mate. There was only one way to ascend into the realm of the exalted. Since his father's birth order left him in a relatively minor position also and no amount of money could buy supremacy in the clan, he understood that control of his destiny lay in the ability to produce the next queen. Frederick was not currently living with the person in the chart. That was clear.

'Well good luck. We are in a race it seems. I must find my own mate and try to reproduce before Frederick beats me to it,' he uttered, hiding the self satisfied smile beneath a demeanour of false cordiality.

Kardin rose, as nonchalant as ever, from in front of his rival. No handshake would be shared. He made his way home deep in thought. In a perfectly built sanctuary, located in the basement of his home, he had arranged pillows, altars and incense, all designed to take his mind from the present, into the future. After a light drink designed to bring forth dreams, he made his way to the centre of the room and seated himself. The effort it took to access the realm of the future, depleted much of his immediate strength. He could not engage in normal activities for hours after.

In a pile of soft cushions, he sat crossed legged and sought the deeper dimension of future sight. Kardin had the ability to discern himself weeks, months and years ahead, which he did quite often. Only the future of others was not available to him unless they were to be a big part of his life.

In his dream state, he could see himself sitting in a car at the edge of Central Park. Emerging from a hidden section of the grounds was a young woman with golden hair. She did indeed have a child, dark haired and stormy looking, clearly not a child of consequence. The little girl, not much bigger than a toddler, held on fiercely to her mother's hand. The woman turned left and moved away from the opening to the park's drain system _(the world of the dead he thought_). She scurried across the grass and walked over to the main road. There, Kardin saw himself waiting. Beside him was a woman, an old friend who would take the child and see to her care for one year.

His heart pounded at the sight of the golden haired woman. She was beautiful! Indeed, her bearing was noble. _How could Frederick have let her go?'_ Kardin thought he knew. Due to his degenerate lifestyle, Frederick was also impotent.

Kardin had no such problem. He did not want a relationship, but mating with her would give him great pleasure. Getting her pregnant before any other clan member would supersede Frederick's birth right. Then and only then would Kardin have the ticket to rule the vast empire of the Cult of the Golden Lion. When she gave him the perfect child, he would release her. Unlike Gabriel, he felt she was too beautiful to be killed. In order to preserve her sanity, he would use a mixture of drugs and hypnosis to remove the memory of the birth. As soon as the baby could travel, he would take her to India, to be raised. When the time was right, his child would return to take her place on the marriage market in the family. Any man who wanted her would pay dearly.

Satisfied with the plan, Kardin rested. As soon as his energy returned, he would scour the park for the entrance. Once found, he would place an armed guard near the opening and wait for her to appear. He had no idea when the woman would be there. He was impatient to begin a new phase of the journey but the rewards kept his pace slow and steady.

* * *

Five hundred and forty two days later, Lena emerged from the tunnel life to bright sunshine. She had enough of waiting. Vincent did not love her, never would. Without his love she could not endure life below. The world above was hostile. For more than three years she had been safe. Her body had time to heal from the years of abuse, Freddy's defection, months on the street selling herself. Even her stepfather's interference faded in the warm and loving tunnel community but things changed drastically with the death of Catherine.

The decision to leave had been nearly impossible. Father and Mary advised against it, but Lena was adamant. Freddy didn't know that he had fathered her child. For her daughter's sake she wanted to connect with him again although she had no plan in mind. Lena thought he may not love the mother but at least he could love his child. She stood on the threshold of the tunnel entrance, waiting, wondering which way to go. She had a little money in her pocket. She turned left. A large limousine blocked her path to the street. Inside she saw a dark haired man and wondered if, by some miracle, Freddy had found her. The door opened and she peered inside.

'Come in Madeleine. I have been waiting for you all my life.'

* * *

_To be continued... Sometime down the road, I will come back to write more tales from Beauty and the Beast._

_Coming Soon - A Double Majesty of Grace - a continuation of this story._

_I dedicate this story to all children whose lives have been displaced by situations beyond their control. My hat is off to those who are able to rise above the circumstances and my prayers go out to those who still struggle. If you enjoyed this story, please do something special for a child in need._

Vetivera


End file.
